


The Death of a Marriage

by grimeysociety



Series: Hollywood [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain Marvel (2019), Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically Bucky Barnes is a mess, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Goes to Therapy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, POV Bucky Barnes, Recreational Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Zero the Cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2019-11-06 07:13:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 110,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17935226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: Bucky Barnes is tired of being typecast. He's lost, career-wise and life-wise, and taking a gamble on an art house flick is meant to rekindle his passion for the craft. Bucky finds himself falling for his co-star, Darcy Lewis, the indie darling who plays his wife.





	1. Part One: You don't even care.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to this mess! I've always wanted to write a Hollywood AU and I figured Wintershock would make it fun and just my type of angst. This fic is un-beta'd so please excuse my own mistakes.

__

Banner by Chellacat

 

Movie Poster by [romanoffsbite](https://romanoffsbite.tumblr.com/post/186222234034/death-of-a-marriage-grimeysociety-bucky)

 

 _And who cares divine intervention_  
_I wanna be praised from a new perspective_  
_But leaving now would be a good idea_  
_So catch me up on getting out of here_

 **-** "New Perspective" by Panic! at the Disco

 

 

**Part One: You don't even care.**

 

 

Bucky always drove with the top of his 1985 Buik Convertible down, even on cooler nights like this one. He was chain-smoking while he sped home to his condo.

The wind whipped at his face and he stopped at the traffic lights to see two women walking across, one of them nudging the other as they recognized him.

Bucky rose a hand in hello as they began gushing. Maybe he should have picked a different car, a different way to get home. Maybe even a different career entirely.

“I love you!” one of the women squealed. She was cute, a Kirsten Dunst type while her friend was more like Isla Fisher.

They watched him speed off again and Bucky gave a long exhale of smoke, glancing at them in his rear-view mirror. Usually that kind of stroke to his ego would have him picking them up without learning either of their names, but after the meeting he had with his agent that evening Bucky was in no mood to be spotted. His last movie was universally panned by critics and fans alike. It was a real blow to his resume, but the full impact of such a piece of shit movie was still to be realized.

He was sick of these movies. He got a call and he’d be up against the same eight or nine guys, each of them just as ordinary as him on paper. They were straight, under thirty-five and even around the same height. The movie itself was a dubious commitment and Bucky was sure it showed like it did in the dailies. The people around him should have told him he was phoning it in, because he was. The studio was just so determined to make another blockbuster like the last one he did. He still hadn’t seen the piece of shit he spent the last nine months making, and he didn’t plan to. He did hear he was likely to be nominated for a Razzie.

When he arrived home, he slammed his car door shut as he walked up the steps from the garage, letting himself in with a cigarette still in his mouth.

“Hey,” he called out.

Rachel, who he fought with just before he left for dinner with his agent, was somewhere beyond the hallway. When she didn’t reply, he went to find her in the bedroom in the middle of packing her bags.

“Oh,” he said, taking his cigarette out and mashing it into an ashtray on his chest of drawers.

She was concentrating on emptying each drawer, and she looked like she’d been crying. Bucky felt something tighten in his chest and then loosen once more. She was done. She said as much a few hours ago, but he hadn’t taken it seriously.

“I’m going,” she murmured. She shoved underwear in a suitcase and then slammed it shut. “I called Ashley. She’s picking me up.”

“I’ll drive you,” Bucky murmured.

“Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t do that. I’m not a child.”

He knew that. She seemed to have aged five years in about five months while knowing him. He needed to stop dating teenagers. He turned into their first real frustration with love, usually. He’d meet a girl not even old enough to drink at some premiere or party and then they’d fall head over heels for him, somehow forgetting he was an actor, a born liar.

“I know,” he murmured. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“My therapist says that I’m in love with a version of you I have in my head,” Rachel said. She moved onto stuffing jewelry into a case.

“You talk about me at therapy?” Bucky said, and Rachel narrowed her eyes at him in exasperation.

“Of course I do!” she snapped.

Bucky knew he’d missed her point entirely, but he’d done it deliberately. He didn’t need someone to tell him he was a phony. He didn’t need another girl to tell him he made her cry. He stood by, watching Rachel pack her things. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

She pushed past him and paused in the hallway.

“You don’t even care.”

Bucky did care, but not in the way she wanted him to. He cared that he was alone again, and that he’d managed to add another name to a list of people who would cross the road to avoid him. She wanted him to beg her to stay, to throw his arms around her and kiss her.

But he didn’t love her. He never had, and a part of him knew he never would. He pushed off of the door frame, giving her a quick glance before turning his back on her and walking to the kitchen.

“Asshole,” he heard her hiss, before the front door slammed.

-

Three weeks went by and Bucky had five scripts sent to him, each of them a part in some franchise he had no interest in. Not since _The Winter Soldier_ years ago had a blockbuster really mattered to him, and he didn’t want a repeat of the last shitstorm. His agent was starting to get antsy, so he dropped them.

Rachel moved on fast, dating a soccer player from Spain, but that was according to some soundbite Bucky almost moved past while flipping through channels.

Bucky’s publicist’s barely concealed alarm caused him to start shopping around. Agencies were a dime a dozen but Steve mentioned a friend from art school when Bucky managed to answer his friend’s phone call for once.

Being on opposite sides of the country meant differences, but Bucky knew he and Steve lived in entirely separate worlds.

“Her name is Wanda. She’s great,” Steve said, and Bucky let out a sigh.

“Does she have experience?” he asked.

He was sitting on his couch with beer bottles littered all over his coffee table along with ashtrays full of cigarette butts. His maid was probably going to make some passive aggressive comment when he next saw her.

“She has a lot of heart,” Steve replied.

Bucky made a face. “That doesn’t mean much, Stevie.”

“Jesus, how drunk are you?”

“Not nearly enough,” Bucky mumbled.

The woman on TV was topless and jumping into a pool with her teenage neighbor. The premise of the entire movie was based around this weird relationship. Bucky forgot why he chose to watch it.

“I’ll give her your number and you’ll go meet her?”

“Sure,” Bucky replied, just to make Steve shut up.

When he hung up, he watched the topless woman kiss the teenage boy. Bucky didn’t even feel a vague stir of his cock, he was completely turned off. The next scene had the teenage boy’s older sister walking into the kitchen and telling him that the topless neighbor was using him. The teenage boy was in obvious denial. The older sister was only there as a minuscule plot device – the writing was so lazy that Bucky rolled his eyes – but the second she was gone, he missed her.

She was a little brunette with curves and plush red lips and a wry smirk. Everything about her was better than the rest of the movie and she only had about five lines.

Bucky was definitely drunk. He rewound the movie and watched her scenes again, wondering who she was.

The next morning when he was hungover and squinting at his TiVo, he couldn’t remember the rest of the movie and he didn’t care to find out more about it. At least he passed on that one, whenever it was made. He was most likely offered the role of the topless woman’s actual boyfriend who beat up the teenage boy at the climax of the movie.

-

Wanda Maximoff was younger than Bucky expected, and the realization made his heart sink a little. She seemed like a beautiful, smart young woman and he was about to dash her dreams of representing him when his eyes fell on her face for the first time.

“Wanda, hi,” he said, taking her hand in his.

Her smile was contagious. “Hi, it’s so good to meet you. Steve has told me so much.”

He liked that she didn’t say she was a fan of his right away. Usually people mentioned _The Winter Soldier_ within the first ten seconds of meeting him, or if they wanted to stick out they’d mention something from ten or more years ago, some TV role or other that was his breakthrough.

Wanda’s office was small and she didn’t have a secretary. The place was made up of IKEA furniture and some movie posters. The one for _Boogie Nights_ was behind her desk and Bucky stared at it for a few seconds longer than he’d usually allow. Most agencies had a Kubrick poster or something from the Golden Age.

“Only good things, surely,” Bucky muttered, and Wanda smiled again.

“Mostly stuff about you guys growing up in Brooklyn,” Wanda said, and they both sat down.

Wanda’s fingers threaded together and Bucky could see her nails were short and black. Everything she had said or done so far intrigued him enough to stay until she had said everything she wanted to him. She owed her that much, even if all he did was pass her details on at a party for a kid starting out.

“I’ve got a role for you that’s perfect.”

“I hear that every day,” Bucky said. “Or I used to until I fired my agent.”

“You fired them because you didn’t want to be typecast anymore,” Wanda said.

She got to the point faster than Bucky expected. He thought he knew the game so well that he wished he didn’t, but having someone be honest faster meant less time wasted for both of them.

Bucky put a hand in his jacket pocket, retrieving his pack of cigarettes.

Wanda’s face changed, and she put up a hand. “I’d rather you didn’t smoke in here.”

Thank God. She passed his test. Bucky had no intention of smoking indoors, it was beyond rude – but anybody else would have let him light up, even if they had asthma.

Bucky smiled. “Thanks.”

Wanda looked slightly confused before her face morphed back into a smile. “I definitely have the perfect role for you. It doesn’t pay much but the work is good.”

Bucky chuckled, surprised at the sound he made so easily. “Okay. What’s the story?”

“It’s about a guy whose descent into crime is stopped by love.”

Bucky made a face. “That sounds vague enough to be practically anything. Who else is up for it?”

“No-one,” Wanda said. “Director wants you, and only you.”

“Who?”

“Stephen Strange,” Wanda said, and Bucky scanned his memory for the name.

“Don’t know him.”

“He’s English with some arthouse films. Did you see _Ache and Bone_?”

Bucky shook his head.

“That’s okay,” Wanda murmured, her shoulders drooping slightly. “No-one did.”

Bucky wondered how some English guy knew Wanda. He wondered how Steve even knew Wanda.

“Why are you here?” Bucky asked, and Wanda seemed thrown but his directness. “Why are you in Los Angeles instead of in New York with Broadway and everything?”

Wanda looked around. “I want to make movies.”

“You can make movies in New York.”

They stared at one another and Wanda eventually gave a shrug.

“I wanted to make movies here,” was the best answer she could give him. She sighed. “Look, I know you’re going to say no, I just want to know if there’s any pointers you can give me for the next guy I try to get.”

Bucky licked his lips. “I’ll meet him. Strange. I’ll do that.”

She blinked at him. “Seriously?”

-

Bucky didn’t know what came first – the name or the behavior, but Stephen Strange was an odd guy. The industry encouraged weirdness so he was perfect to be a director.

Bucky met him at his bungalow. Strange answered the door in his robe like he was Hugh Hefner, and Bucky followed him out into the garden behind his house and they sat under a tree while his butler was off getting them drinks.

Bucky wore his sunglasses and felt Strange’s eyes rove over him several times.

“I met Wanda,” Bucky said. “She said you were asking for me.”

“Is she representing you now?” Strange asked.

His accent was a weird mash, and Bucky couldn’t predict which way it went as Strange spoke.

Bucky avoided answering the question because it was something he hadn’t decided on Wanda. He hoped that after meeting Strange he’d call her with an answer.

“I watched _Ache and Bone_. I had to ask someone for a screener,” Bucky said.

“Thoughts?” Strange asked, fingers steepling.

“It was intense,” Bucky replied. That was an understatement. The film was an experience, an emotional journey through and through. Truth be told, Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about it, and a part of him hoped that this new project was just like it, but directors didn’t often have more than one movie like that, unless they were prolific. Bucky thought it was too early to tell with Strange.

“Good. You’re not trying to kiss my ass,” Strange said with a smile. The pronounced it ‘arse’, which made Bucky’s lips quirk briefly. “I guess this is the part where I tell you you’re like Montgomery Clift.”

“Fuck, I hope not,” Bucky said, taking out his cigarettes. He didn’t ask if he could light up. He exhaled through his nose with smoke in his eyes and Strange stared at him intently.

“Well, you are like him. I just hope you don’t have the same ending.”

“Hmm,” Bucky replied. He took a long drag. “So what’s the story? Wanda said some bullshit about a moral fucking conundrum.”

Strange began to laugh, long and loud. “My God. You are exactly as I hoped.”

Bucky felt that stroke of his ego but tried best to ignore it. If he was so great, why hadn’t he passed on the worst movie of the year, as the Internet put it? Where was his integrity? Where was his passion?

Maybe he just didn’t have it anymore. He used to like his job, when he made no money and had two lines an episode in a period drama TV hit over ten years ago.

“No-one will see this movie,” Strange warned, his laughter dying. “I hope you realize that.”

Bucky didn’t care if it meant winding back the clock to a time when he gave a shit about a character, instead of just learning lines.

“What’s the story?” he asked again, his voice softer.

“It’s called _The Death of a Marriage_. Two people fall in love, but he’s a criminal. She thinks he can change but he doesn’t,” Strange said. “I wrote it after my last divorce but didn’t want to touch it. Then I saw _The Winter Soldier_ finally and I finally _understood_ everything.”

Bucky looked away, smoking.

“You never got nominated for that?” Strange asked, but Bucky had a feeling he knew that well enough and was just trying to make a point.

“No,” Bucky replied. He blew out smoke from his lips that time, shaking his head. “But that’s not why I did it in the first place.”

“That, sir, is the right answer,” Strange said, leaning forward in his chair. He smiled, and Bucky blinked at him from behind his sunglasses. His accent was entirely English when he spoke that time, and quite earnest.

“You _were_ nominated for _Ashes of Iwo Jima_ ,” he added, and Bucky nodded. “That was the film I actually gave a shit about. Not so much _The Winter Soldier_. Though both were good, obviously.”

He spoke like he was talking to himself, and Bucky flicked ash onto the ground, wondering how best to move on. He hated always listing past achievements because compared to now there were large gaps in quality.

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said, his voice rough from smoke. “If it’s anything like _Ache and Bone_. If I get some kind of creative control.”

“Absolutely,” Strange said immediately. “This will take a lot out of you, though. You must know that.”

“Good,” Bucky replied. It would be nice to have some of himself taken away for once.

-

The script read with the same cheeriness of a Nine Inch Nails song. Something about wiping away his entire self for a gritty drama with a tiny budget was refreshing to Bucky.

That just had to find the girl he was meant to fall in love with.

There were a lot of big names thrown around and Bucky knew some of them, even dated some of the names, but he kept wanting someone different. He liked that Strange was about as fussy as he was. Auditions for the role of Natalie to his Jack meant days of sifting through girls ranging from eighteen to twenty-five. None of them stood out, and Bucky hated sitting in on each audition.

“Who keeps sending these girls?” Strange muttered with his face in his hands. His assistant began to speak but he cut her off. “ _Rhetorical_ , Debra. Rhetorical. Good Lord.”

Strange was an asshole, but Bucky had dealt with ten times worse. He liked that he didn’t berate the girls who came in, he didn’t make a pass at anyone, either.

The girls that came in were all white, all younger than Bucky by more than eight years, and they all had the same optimism. Maybe, just maybe, they’d be picked. But then Strange would look at Bucky and they’d share the same thought. No. They just weren’t the right fit.

Strange did not compromise. When it was suggested by the casting director that they go back and revise some of the girls who’d already come in, he flew into a rage and left the building and Bucky looked toward the ceiling and sighed.

Debra, Strange’s assistant, leaned close to Bucky and whispered, “They’re all blonde.”

Bucky knew that, but it seemed a creative choice integral to the story. But the more he thought about it, why were they all blonde?

“Like his ex-wife?” he said, and Debra nodded. “Then we should branch out.”

Strange’s divorce was expensive and maybe he didn’t need to be reminded of his ex every time there was a new girl to audition. It would mean a pretty hostile working environment in between takes.

“Oh,” was Strange’s reply when Bucky called him to tell him about finding the right Natalie. It seemed it did not occur to him that he was subconsciously drawn to a certain type of girl.

“So… brunettes, at least?” Bucky added.

-

Darcy Lewis’ name came up on the sheet one morning and Bucky didn’t know it. He knew her face when she walked in, and by how she reacted to him, he knew she recognized him.

She shook Strange’s hand.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said. She shook Bucky’s hand and even Debra’s. “All of you.”

The script they handed her was from a scene she shared with Bucky. He knew the dialogue inside and out now, and he hoped they might cut it from the actual movie since it seemed to lose its passion the more he performed it.

She glanced at her papers. Once, then twice. When Strange called action she switched instantly.

“You think this is something we can come back from?” Bucky asked as Jack, his voice rough. He glanced at Darcy’s lips and then her eyes, which were filled with tears.

She committed fast. “Why can’t we?”

“You think I can forgive you for what you did?” Bucky asked. Darcy’s eyes changed, her eyes flashing with fury.

Without warning, she smacked him across the face.

“How dare you?” she whispered. “After what you did to me? After what I went through with Mike –”

Instead of calling cut, Strange let it roll on, Bucky’s face stinging from where she hit him.

Bucky grabbed her by the wrists and bore his eyes into hers, where angry tears were spilling over.

“I don’t want to love you anymore,” Darcy whispered.

Bucky was frozen. He couldn’t remember the next line. She’d rendered him speechless.

“Okay, cut. Cut,” Strange said, and Darcy blinked several times as Bucky let her go.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, hand going to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

The fact that she hit him for real could mean blacklisting, but Strange was looking at her like he did when Bucky showed up at his house weeks ago. He was struck.

“You are brilliant, smack him all you want,” he said to Darcy, how gave an unsure smile.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again to Bucky. “Are you okay?”

Bucky felt himself blush for the first time in over a decade as all eyes were on him and his reddened cheek.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

He respected her for doing it. No-one else would have because they were afraid of him. The most the girls had done when they came to audition was cry on his shoulder a little, and one even hung around his car afterward hoping to get his number.

Darcy was different in every way, and it was what they needed.

And then he remembered she was the older sister in that godawful teen movie he watched after Rachel dumped him.

When Darcy left, Bucky turned to Strange.

“If you don’t hire her, I’m out.”

Strange smirked. “I wasn’t _not_ going to hire her. She’s perfect.”

Bucky settled back in his chair, running over the script in his head. He was about to commit to screaming at this lovely woman, to simulating all sorts of things like passion and hatred. For the first time, he wondered if he had it in him. Darcy certainly had everything and more.

“We’ll start shooting next month,” Strange added.

Bucky couldn’t get Darcy’s tear stained face out of his mind. He nodded dumbly, wondering how he was meant to keep up with her.

 

 

 


	2. Part Two: Poor little rich boy

_I know you don't think it's right_   
_I know that you think it's fake_   
_Maybe fake's what I like_

\- "New Person, Same Old Mistakes" by Tame Impala

 

 

**Part Two: Poor little rich boy**

 

 

Doing research for his role took up most of Bucky’s time after Darcy was signed. Strange kept emphasizing the importance of realism within his stories, and Bucky had to look and act the part.

There was no room for error even if ten people ended up seeing their movie. Bucky knew that if he made this one badly after his last disaster he might not get another chance. He’d have to do conventions to try to stay relevant, and the thought of doing something like that made his stomach twist in knots. He didn’t think it was beneath him to meet fans, just hearing them gush about how _The Winter Soldier_ saved their own lives made him too uncomfortable to fake friendliness.

He met with reformed guys that did time and got out of the cycle. Some were nice, and others treated him no differently than an ordinary guy on the street, which he appreciated. He worked out consistently, stopped drinking so much. He felt sharper, but nervous.

He wondered what Darcy was going through to prepare. Hopefully not anything too drastic. He asked about cutting his hair and Strange said they’d think about it before the first day of shooting. He hoped he didn’t have to grow a beard or something like that. The thought about scratching Darcy while they kissed, because there was a lot of that in the script.

Rachel got engaged. She seemed to be moving fast to make up for the time lost with him. He rode around one night for hours, wondering what got under his skin, and then he remembered the photo he saw of her on TMZ, her face bright with a wide smile while the soccer player fiancé beamed down at her. She’d only looked at Bucky like that maybe once or twice, in the early days. That was in the middle of his piece of shit movie and he couldn’t get enough of her, just because he wanted to get that movie out of his head. He remembered licking tequila off her stomach to get dialogue out of his head – repeating the same line forty times over would do that to him.

Strange said his approach would be organic. From what Bucky could see in _Ache and Bone_ , Strange liked long takes with a lot of fly-on-the-wall perspectives. It meant improvising, and the thought of thinking on his feet with Darcy in the same room was unsettling.

Nervous sweating occurred as he woke for the first day of shooting. He knew it was a good sign. It meant he cared, but replicating the same drive from _The Winter Soldier_ or _Ashes of Iwo Jima_ felt nearly impossible. Maybe he’d just been doing it for too long. He could get fired, and then that would mean the people working on the set would lose their jobs temporarily while Strange tried to find his replacement.

As he drove to the little house downtown where the set was for the first day, he chewed at the cuticle of his thumb. He tasted metal and saw he’d split it, a bubble of blood forming at the corner of his nail. He sucked on his thumb and glanced at his GPS.

Usually actors had cars pick them up to get them to location, but Bucky was aware of how little of a budget Strange had. The makeup trailer was meant to be shared between the entire cast, and a lot of the wardrobe was meant to be their own clothes. He wore an old t-shirt with a tear in its collar, and he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days.

By this point of his morning, Bucky would have already had a few cigarettes, but he knew the first day of shooting featured a kissing scene, so he wasn’t about to have the worst breath imaginable. He gnawed at the gum he found in his glove box.

When he pulled up by the set, several security guards waved him through. One of them clapped him on the shoulder like he knew him and Bucky tried to smile.

Linda was the head makeup artist, ushering Bucky toward the trailer. She sat him down as Strange came in, smiling at him.

“You’re early. I like that,” he said. He and Linda looked at Bucky in the mirror, assessing.

“I can shave,” Bucky offered, and Linda smiled at him.

“Man of your age, I hoped you’d be able to do that yourself,” Strange muttered dryly. “I think we’ll get rid of it today, but you can grow it for the next couple days.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, nodding. “What about tattoos?”

“You got any?” Strange looked his arms over, seeing nothing.

“I meant for Jack,” Bucky added. “I don’t have any to cover.”

He always meant to get a tattoo but he never committed to any idea he got. He’d think of a song lyric and then be sick of it by the time he thought out the ideal spot and design. Linda gave Strange a look, pointing behind her.

“I have a folder. You had that smudgy dagger one in mind?”

Strange made a face. “Yeah, just… no barbed wire or teardrops.”

He glanced at Bucky in the mirror again as Linda busied herself with the folder, flipping through it.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, where’s -?”

He spotted Darcy coming up the stairs to the trailer with a big smile on her face, answering his question. She patted Strange’s arm and asked about his cat (Bucky didn’t know he had one) and introduced herself to Linda.

Unexpectedly, she moved toward Bucky and kissed him on the cheek.

“Hey,” she breathed. She gave him a warm smile and he felt his lips quirk in return.

She smelt really, really good. She touched his arm before taking the seat next to his.

Linda then found the tattoo Strange decided on and worked at the temporary one they’d place on Bucky’s left forearm, Darcy watching in the corner of his eye. They took a picture for continuity, and then Linda offered to get Bucky a razor.

“I shaved,” Darcy offered, making Linda titter and Bucky’s eyes slipped to her calves. Her wardrobe was a little pair of shorts with a sleeveless shirt.

While Linda worked on Darcy’s hair and makeup, Bucky shaved carefully. Strange was out talking to his AD. Since they were meant to shoot the movie chronologically, Darcy’s outfit was changed to something younger. Bucky had some idea that she was around twenty-eight or so years old, but the flashback scenes they were filming today and tomorrow were meant to be Jack and Natalie meeting at twenty-two.

She wore a miniskirt with a florescent green tank top with big gold hoop earrings. Her makeup was simple, and Darcy insisted she filled in her own brows. She caught Bucky’s eye in his mirror as he dragged the razor down.

“What do I call you, anyway?” she asked, and Linda went at her with a few spritzes of hairspray. “James, or -?”

“You can call me Bucky,” Bucky said. He patted his face with a towel. His fingers itched for a cigarette and he began to fidget. “James is my stage name, but only my ma calls me that, really.”

“Buchanan is your middle name,” Darcy said.

He nodded. She must have Googled him, or at least seen his Wikipedia page.

“I’m sorry about… the other week,” she added, a nervous smile forming on her face. “I can get carried away. I thought I’d get sued for hitting you like that.”

Linda’s hands stopped fussing and she stared at Darcy in the mirror.

“Her audition,” Bucky explained. “But it was part of the script.”

“ _It wasn’t in the script, Linda_ ,” Darcy stage-whispered. She winked at Bucky. “Am I done?”

“Almost. I need to check if Stephen wants something different for Bucky as well,” Linda replied, coming over to assess Bucky’s clean-shaven face.

“Can we run some lines, then?” Darcy asked.

“Sure,” Bucky said, as Linda went out to find Strange. He liked that she was assertive. Most other actresses he worked with tried to stay out of his way. It didn’t help that the director usually took his side, or made sure his needs were met first. The studio he was with would do anything to keep him happy because he made them money.

He hadn’t spoken to the studio about Strange’s movie that much. He should probably return a call or two sometime, but he followed Darcy out the trailer and into the lane by the house one of the scenes was meant to be set in.

Several staff were watching them and Strange was in the distance, looking irritated. Bucky watched as he looked like he was explaining something deadly important to one of the camera guys.

Bucky really wanted a cigarette.

“Listen,” Darcy said, and Bucky glanced at her. “Stephen said we can improvise a lot of this.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said.

“Hey!” came a yell, and Strange was charging toward them, flapping hands.

Bucky moved out of the way as their director took Darcy by the shoulders and steered her away. He shot Bucky a glance over his shoulder.

“It’ll be better if you don’t talk too much before you meet for the first time on screen.”

 _“Sorry,”_ Darcy mouthed to him, and Bucky pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh.

The first flashback scene went by quickly. Strange was true to his word. The filming felt organic, as the long takes were often uninterrupted and improvised. Bucky just had to get from point A to point B. It meant a camera moving unsteadily at times around them. For half the scene it was fixed on Darcy’s face reacting to everything Bucky said as Jack.

In the flashback scenes, Jack was a closet romantic. He was in and out of juvie as a kid and never went to college, but he was passionate about love in his own concealed way. There was meant to be an undeniable chemistry between himself and Natalie from the beginning, and Bucky felt it was genuinely there.

Darcy as Natalie was meant to be concealing her own fascination of him. At first she was coy, avoiding his searching gaze as he followed her down the lane. The camera trained on her face meant Bucky could slack off, but he chose to commit entirely to the character.

Darcy tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and mumbled something about him leaving her alone. Bucky could make out the full scope of her eye colour in the light, the way her skin looked like the softest to touch.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said, and Darcy’s eyes met his and she blushed.

That was not in the script and Bucky felt his stomach flip. He was Jack in that moment, hoping Natalie would give him a chance.

“I could stare at you for hours,” he added. “I mean that.”

The hush around them of the crew was becoming unbearable, and Darcy blinked at him with her cheeks still pink. She smiled shyly, dipping her head.

They took a break and Strange pulled Bucky aside, one hand on his shoulder.

“Think back to what you were like as a kid with girls. How would you kiss them?” he asked, and Bucky’s eyebrows rose.

“I guess like Jack. Try and charm them like it was a game.”

“But underneath, you’re desperate for love,” Strange added, and Bucky was aware that Darcy might be overhearing this.

“Sure,” he said, shrugging. “We need to rehearse for tomorrow, too.”

“I know,” Strange said, for the first time assuring him. “Keep at it.”

No good or bad. That kind of vagueness was oddly freeing. They set up for the next scene in the same lane, this time it was meant to be their first kiss. If _Ache and Bone_ was anything to go by, the editing would show little lead up to it and the audience would have to decide how they made it there or keep it a mystery to themselves. Bucky liked that _Ache and Bone_ wasn’t so clean-cut. Each shot seemed to jump and nothing was ever expected.

Darcy leaned against a fence and tilted her head up at Bucky, her eyelids hooded. Bucky could smell that her breath was minty like his. He knew Jack was rough around the edges but he wouldn’t manhandle her for a kiss, he’d be somewhat gentle in his control. Bucky run his thumb over Darcy’s full bottom lip, feeling how supple she was.

Her pupils were blown as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers. Eyes flew shut and her hand went to his hair. It was just a slow peck, practically chaste.

“Go again,” Strange called out. Bucky moved his head back, nodding.

Once more with feeling. He was glad he’d not had a cigarette. As he went in for another kiss, their mouths slanted together and the tip of his tongue met hers, the soft glide just on the side of needy.

Darcy’s hand cupped his cheek instead of grabbing his hair, and the fondness in her touch made it more significant. Strange didn’t call cut, so Bucky kept at it until he needed air.

Once he drew back he pressed his forehead to Darcy’s and sighed.

“Cut! Yes!” Strange yelled. “Yes.”

Bucky could feel the heat in his cheeks as he moved back from Darcy, clearing his throat. She looked similarly affected, touching her hair and one of her earrings and blinking.

At the end of their first day, Bucky ended up chain smoking the second he got to his car. He blasted Massive Attack with the top down, wondering how to get rid of the restlessness still inside.

He went to a Chinese restaurant and wore his cap inside to avoid too much attention, but by the end of his meal people were starting to point, and he could see a family hovering, wanting a selfie or an autograph.

He threw some notes down and tried to make a run for it, managing to evade the family and he sped off in his Buick, feeling like an asshole. He drove past a line outside a club and a few people turned their heads, staring.

He knew it would be easier to just stay at home. Except at home it was just him and his TV. He pulled off his hat and messed up his hair a little more, sighing. He pulled up at a bar, knowing they’d only let them in because he was famous. He otherwise wasn’t dressed for it.

The cocktail bar was where he met several women over the years. He actually had no idea how many women it was, he just knew that this was a consistent spot. He could sit at the bar and someone would always sit down next to him.

It took fifteen minutes and half his drink before a blonde woman wearing a silver dress and matching hoop earrings that made Bucky pause for too long. The jewellery reminded him instantly of Darcy in costume, and the thought of her being on his mind made him miserable.

“Poor little rich boy,” the woman said, and Bucky tilted his head at her.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t even remember me, huh? It’s _Lucy_ ,” she snapped. “God.”

He didn’t have a clue who Lucy was. She might have been one of the ones whose bed he woke up in with no memory. Thankfully, that hadn’t happened in a while, not since he was at the Chateau Marmont and constantly partying. Those were rough days he’d rather not revisit.

“Sorry, Lucy,” he said. “Let me buy you a drink.”

That poor little rich boy line really bothered him, though. He ordered her a martini while he nursed his whiskey. He needed to be up early for rehearsing tomorrow and he thought he might need to research it.

It was an excuse to pick someone up. Tomorrow was meant to be dedicated to their first sex scene, and that tended to be a very unsexy experience, but because of Strange’s determination to make a unique movie Bucky knew his expectations were about to be thrown out of the closest window.

Lucy got up from her seat once she finished her drink and Bucky caught her wrist.

“Let me drive you home.”

Her contempt for him lasted mere seconds before it morphed into appreciation. She smiled and nodded.

When he left her apartment he could still smell her on him even with the smoke that constantly surrounded him. He thought of Jack. At least that guy felt something when he was with a woman. Something beyond want.

_But underneath, you’re desperate for love._

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair and waited at the traffic lights, knowing he was closer to going to bed alone. It was past midnight and he’d be tired in the morning.

He couldn’t call Steve even if it was earlier in the night. If he called him, his friend would start to worry and that was the last thing Bucky wanted.

Lucy was meant to satisfy him but he felt nothing. The thought of his stomach flipping as Jack, and he couldn’t remember the last time that happened in real life.

But how _real_ was his life?

Not very.

-

Rolling into work the next day he gnawed on nicotine gum and somehow found the taste worse than cigarettes. He needed something to get past the cravings.

Bucky almost collided with Darcy when he went to the makeup trailer looking for her.

“Hey,” she breathed, looking surprised. “Stephen wants us to go over today’s scenes.”

“What, no Method bullshit rules today?” Bucky muttered, and Darcy’s eyebrows rose.

 _Oh._ She hadn’t seen him in his grumpy mode yet, and he was about to shatter whatever illusions she had of him, like he did with every other woman he met.

“No,” she said, giving him a proper glance over. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied, properly regretting his outburst. She might have to try a bit harder to seem like she was in love with him if he was too much himself.

“So?” she prompted, and Bucky moved out of her way so she could take off toward the set.

They were filming inside that day. Bucky saw the dank bedroom and it reminded him of his apartment as a kid in Brooklyn, which was a real grimy-piece-of-shit part of his childhood.

They sat with Strange as they deliberating how to execute the scene. Bethany the intimacy coach was also present as part of union policy, her pen poised to take notes.

“Nudity?” she asked, and Bucky realized she meant him.

“Uh, yeah. I guess,” he said, and she looked up to clarify. “I mean, _yes_. It was in my contract.”

He didn’t care so much about nudity. It was how he acted when he was naked that could be made a joke. With the editing there might not be much to see, anyway. Maybe half a frame of his dick and then cutting to them humping together.

“Darcy?” Bethany asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Full frontal, I guess,” Darcy said, looking down at the table they shared a few feet away from the bed. “Is that what it’s called?”

“I’m not about to show a bunch of tits and fanny,” Strange piped up, and Bethany gave him a horrified look.

Bucky suppressed a smirk and caught Darcy’s eye, her own mirth barely contained. What made it funny was Strange’s accent disintegrating to his frustrated English one.

“It’ll just be incidental stuff,” he added, voice level and more West Coast. “I can show you what I mean.”

The last time Bucky did nudity was in an action movie and it was just his ass for a few seconds in a comedic scene involving him sneaking out of a co-ed’s dorm. He remembered random women catcalling him for a while after that summer blockbuster came out, but he’d never shown his dick on screen before. It wasn’t usually done.

But it was just his body, it wasn’t pornographic. He trusted Strange with making it tasteful.

Strange then had them map out the scene like a coach running drills with a team. The scene wasn’t meant to be perfect. Sex was rarely perfect, and it was better for authenticity if they improvised any dialogue that might occur.

Strange planned to be to the side of the bed out of shot coaching them, signalling when the scene was meant to change to a climax. Bucky knew sex scenes were usually short, but Strange wanted longer takes.

Bucky glanced at Darcy more than once during the planning to try and gauge her feeling. She seemed to concentrate entirely on what Strange said, nodding and occasionally murmuring an affirmative.

Bethany was watching with the same level of concentration, occasionally chiming in to ask if Darcy was comfortable with the decisions being made.

“Missionary, for now,” Strange said. He glanced at Darcy and then Bucky.

“Sure,” Bucky said. He chewed his nicotine gum and felt his mouth was dry.

 _For now._ That usually meant something raunchier later, maybe simulated blowjobs or doggy style. Bucky glanced at the ceiling as he listened.

“Okay,” Strange said, with a clap of his hands, bringing Bucky back. “Let’s go get ready and come back.”

Bucky shaved again, not giving Darcy much attention as she was made over next to him. He took off his shirt and was handed a robe. He hated that he was about to do this stone cold sober, but he knew there was less for him to lose for doing a scene like this. Darcy had to contend with an audience either appreciating her for her body or condemning her for showing too much. And most of the time, it had nothing to do with whether the rest of the movie was good. Some people might look at this movie as a special milestone for her career because of the nudity, and that always bothered Bucky.

It was just nudity, and it was meant to be love. He blew off an alien’s head in front of a family audience and that was considered okay, but not a human body.

Darcy joined him on set with her own matching robe. The scene was meant to start in the middle of it all like the audience had skipped them stripping off clothes.

There were people readying for Strange to call action, and Bucky finally looked at Darcy to see she was visibly nervous.

The crew was smaller than the day before for privacy’s sake. Darcy turned her back to him to take off her robe, handing it to an assistant. Bucky saw her bare back and the flesh colored thong she wore, his eyes averting as he took off his own robe.

Darcy slipped into bed, turning over toward Bucky. He kept his eyes on the floor, knowing she was topless with the sheet around her stomach.

Strange called action and Bucky took his hand away, feeling the camera on his entire body. Every inch of him was exposed and he wanted a cigarette so badly he bit his lip. They were meant to be opening the scene with him slipping into bed with his dick still out, even if the frame only caught the briefest glance of it.

He knew he wasn’t small in that sense. His dick was never scorned at. He knew it was kind of average. It looked like a dick and it acted like one. He moved toward the bed and Strange called cut.

Bucky was whisked away to put his dick and balls into a weird flesh colored pouch before returning to continue the scene. Bethany came up to him asking if he was okay.

He felt very bizarre. The scene they were about to shoot was undoubtedly the most erotic one he’d ever do and he’d never felt less attractive in his life. When he joined Darcy under the covers, he looked at the ceiling and waiting for the lighting to be set up.

“We can nap in between takes,” Darcy murmured.

His eyes swiveled to hers and she was smiling at him. He felt her hand on his under the sheet, squeezing him. It was her silent question – was he okay to continue?

He nodded, trying to smile back at her but not reaching his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Stephen rose a hand and the set went silent. Bucky felt his heart jump into his throat and he turned over to climb on top of Darcy. He saw her breasts for the first time and felt his cheeks burn.

He supposed that was fine for his character since Jack was meant to be overwhelmed, but seeming flustered because he was on top of his co-star might come across as pathetic.

She was gorgeous. She looked up at him with her big blue eyes and Bucky spotted nervous sweat forming on her forehead.

“Action.”

Bucky rocked his hips forward and Darcy arched her back in response, just like they planned. Her nipples brushed his chest and Bucky felt his stomach twist. Darcy tilted her head for him to kiss her and he obliged, pressing his mouth against hers.

They gasped together, gyrating for a while, but Bucky knew this was too much like other scenes he’d done. He sighed, closing his eyes and breaking character completely.

“Sorry, Stephen. Sorry,” he murmured.

Darcy’s hand went to the side of his face and he opened his eyes to her.

Her brows were furrowed with concern.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just take a second.”

Bucky nodded, so grateful that she was being patient.

Strange came over to them, crouching by the bed.

“What’s up?”

“Is it really bad?” Bucky said, looking Strange in the eye with Darcy still underneath him.

Strange didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

Bucky swallowed.

“We could try something different. But Bethany might not like it,” Strange said after Bucky gave another sigh. “We run the camera with just you two in the room. We run it until you’ve done a couple takes and then we come back to rewatch it.”

Bethany came over, shaking her head.

“No, absolutely not. No offense, Mr. Barnes,” she said, “but I can’t have Darcy alone with him during a love scene without witnesses.”

“There are three cameras,” Darcy said, gesturing to the equipment behind them. “Why don’t you watch from outside on one of the portable monitors?”

Bethany considered this. “Okay. But I’d prefer at least Stephen in with you.”

“No,” Strange said shortly. “My actors need authenticity, and me being here won’t be natural. I don’t know about you, Bethany, but when I make love I don’t have someone sitting by watching. Not that there’s anything wrong with that particular kink. _I’m_ just not into it.”

They all stared at Strange, a deep frown forming on Bethany’s face.

“Okay,” was all she said, and she moved away.

The room was evacuated and Bucky felt his jaw loosen. The cameras were running already and he felt slightly better. Darcy was laughing softly to herself and Bucky stared at her.

“Jesus, what am I doing?” she whispered, and Bucky felt something loosen in his chest as well.

He smiled at her, stroking her face. He just felt like doing that, never mind the cameras. She was making him feel better just by being honest.

When they kissed, it felt better. She sighed against his mouth, which she hadn’t done before. He teased the seam of her lips and she let him in, rolling her hips. Feeling inspired, Bucky began to rock his hips a little for show. He liked kissing Darcy. She tasted good, which was something he hardly noticed before. He could keep kissing her for a long time, which was good – they were meant to be doing this movie for another three months at least if the scheduling didn’t get messed up.

Her tongue was needy. She made little gasps into his mouth as Bucky kept rocking back and forth. He trailed a hand down her face, fingers gliding down her neck to her clavicle. He hated that she wasn’t talking – he liked it when girls talked during sex. Bucky usually didn’t do much talking but Jack would.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

Darcy whimpered and Bucky’s stomach flipped. He felt his resolve begin to weaken. He kissed her with a kind of desperation he thought Jack would have. He’d want to do everything all at once, because he was so in love with Natalie already.

Darcy broke their kiss to begin to pant louder, and Bucky knew it was the signal that she was going to pretend to climax. Her eyes grew wider and she whimpered some more.

“I got you,” Bucky said. “I got you, baby. I got you –”

Darcy gave a yell and squeezed her eyes shut, Bucky never slowing his hips.

Darcy patted his shoulder and Bucky faltered, glancing at her face once more. She pushed against his chest and he moved back, only to have her tackle him so that his back fell against the mattress.

“Like this, okay?” she whispered, and he nodded.

She rocked her hips in a circle as she sat on his hips. Her butt was rubbing against his crotch but he was more distracted by how her tits were bouncing in the light.

They kept rutting against each other until Bucky tapped her hip with a finger to indicate it was his turn, and soon he was huffing, starting to moan as Darcy rocked.

When he pretended to come, he grabbed at her, pulling her toward him and kissing her for the final time, sharing the same breath.

Darcy lay against his chest for half a minute, her hair curtaining them. She leaned on an elbow and stared deep into his eyes.

“You good?” she asked, and he nodded.

Within another minute, Strange was back and smiling. Bethany wasn’t apoplectic so Bucky considered that a win.

They did a few more close up shots of their kissing mouths but the hardest parts of the scene were done. When Strange called cut for the last time that day, Darcy grinned at Bucky.

“Well done, buddy,” she said.

Bucky did his best to return her smile, and with all his strength he shoved aside the feeling of his heart sinking like a stone at her choice of words.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a weird experience, writing smut without it actually being smut. Bucky already has a crush but I hope you can understand that in that situation accidental boners usually never happen! Even if he was turned on by Darcy he's still a professional. The whole process is usually terribly unsexy, from what I've read and heard about actors doing love scenes.
> 
> The song "Same Ol' Mistakes" by Rihanna is a cover of the Tame Impala song quoted above. Both are amazing and highly recommended. 
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone for being so lovely about this new fic of mine. Even if you're a lurker I really appreciate each reader for giving this a go. <3
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com)


	3. Part Three: Otter, otter, otter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The following part contains characters acting out a scene of attempted rape, which may be triggering.**

_What will grow crooked, you can't make straight_

\- "Black Swan" by Thom Yorke

 

 

**Part Three: Otter, otter, otter**

 

 

He should have felt relief. Relief that Darcy had not recoiled out of revulsion, relief that she didn’t feel embarrassed around him.

Bucky should also feel relieved she didn’t have a crush on him, hoping their onscreen romance could be reciprocated elsewhere.

But he couldn’t force himself to not be bruised by her, though he hated that he reacted so badly.

The rest of his week was quite dull by comparison. There were a lot of scenes shot between him and Jack’s friend Mike, played by Clint Barton. Bucky knew Clint since they met the year they were both nominated for Best Supporting Actor. Neither of them won, of course. They were up against veteran actors that wouldn’t condescend to speak to them at the celebratory Academy lunch. Clint was several years older than Bucky and married with kids. Their worlds were so different, and yet Clint was able to give as good as he got with Bucky in every scene.

Clint’s character Mike was meant to be the villain, but in the scenes they shot that week he was only funny and friendly toward Darcy’s Natalie. Bucky rarely saw Darcy for the rest of the week. She was shooting scenes with a tiny fraction of the crew.

When Bucky was about to peel off into the night he heard a voice call out and he turned his head, taking his lit cigarette out of his mouth and blinking at Darcy as she made her way down to his Buick.

“This your car?” she asked, and Bucky nodded.

His vintage Buick got mixed reactions. He did a photo shoot once for a cologne sitting in the Buick and bought it off the owner. He probably paid too much for it but he liked it, and that’s all that really mattered. Sometimes people called it tacky, other people were nicer, which Darcy seemed to be.

“Can I get in?” she asked, and Bucky chuckled.

“Uh, okay.”

She hopped in the passenger seat, feeling the leather and bouncing a little. She rose her eyebrows, seeming impressed.

“Where you headed?” Bucky asked, trying not to smile so obviously at her. He didn’t want to come across as creepy or too invested.

“Wherever you’re going,” she replied, and she was turned to face him. “’Cause I was talking with Stephen and he said we should hang out properly.”

Bucky took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out away from her, unsure how to react. Hanging out with her could be fun, because she seemed like a nice enough girl. But she might find out too much about him and hate the time she wasted. It was a perfectly good Friday and he might ruin it.

“Okay,” he said. He could still feel her eyes on him as he concentrated on driving. “I was goin’ to get somethin’ to eat. You hungry?”

“I haven’t eaten anything sweet in about two weeks,” Darcy said, sounding pained.

Bucky’s gaze flitted to her, and her wide eyes stared back at him.

“That’s not good,” he said. “Why?”

“I try and be svelte and shit before a shoot,” she replied. “And then by the end of the first week I cave and eat my weight in something heart-disease-y.”

“Svelte?” Bucky repeated, smiling despite himself.

“Like an otter,” Darcy said, and he chuckled.

After a minute of silence, Darcy began fiddling with his music, trying to find a channel. She muttered to herself, not quite settling. Bucky tried not to think too much about her leaning closer to adjust settings. She sighed, pulling out her phone and syncing the Bluetooth.

Finally, she put on her own music and leaned back in her seat, pleased with herself. Whatever she chose, Bucky hadn’t heard before, but that wasn’t surprising. For a guy whose most famous character was considered a major part of modern pop culture, he knew he was very uncool.

“What about Cheesecake Factory?” Darcy asked, and Bucky felt his stomach tense at the thought of all the families out tonight getting dinner. There was no way he’d be able to eat in a popular place like that without people recognizing him. He wasn’t about to make Darcy sit through that, when he was certain as this point that she was a far better actor than he was, she just wasn’t well-known.

He’d been on dates with girls that lost their appetites when other women swarmed. It was worse when those women had jealous boyfriends or husbands. He didn’t mind the kids, because they were often cute and shy, but their parents were usually pushy.

It must have shown on his face because Darcy put up a hand.

“I’ll order and we can pick it up. You can sit in your car when I go get it.”

Bucky bit his lip, nodding. “Yeah, okay. Order whatever.”

He didn’t sound enthusiastic. When he was off the clock, he really didn’t try hard enough. He looked over at Darcy, who was nodding back at him before she started tapping on her phone.

Bucky saw her lick her lips and felt himself smile again. She was adorable.

Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea ever to be with her instead of being by himself at home with his beer and Ti-Vo. He had a couple movies saved but they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

The song ended and the next one caught his attention, making his eyebrows raise. The top of his car was down and blasting a catchy tune, and once they pulled up at the lights next to another convertible with four women sitting in it they began to cheer.

Bucky put up a hand as hello and they began screaming, which only made Darcy laugh beside him.

“The Winter Soldier likes King Princess! Ah!” one of them yelled and Bucky glanced at Darcy, who shrugged.

“That who we’re listenin’ to?” he asked, and Darcy nodded.

When they sped off as the lights changed, the girls waved goodbye and Darcy kept on laughing.

“Jesus.”

Bucky felt his cheeks flush. He knew it was ridiculous. Whenever he went home Steve usually had the same reaction to his fans.

Darcy stopped laughing, watching the lights as they drove by. There was a billboard coming up with Rachel on the front, lying across another model with her lipstick smeared, as if she was caught in the middle of something tawdry. That photo used to turn Bucky on but it only made him sad now, and he glanced at it for a second before looking back at the road.

“God, I wish I looked like that,” Darcy murmured.

Bucky glanced at her, wondering why she’d say that. Maybe it had something to do with the svelte comment before. She was a different shape to Rachel, but she was also nearly a foot shorter than her, too. And Rachel was blonde. He wished she hadn’t said that and made his two worlds collide.

“She’s my ex,” Bucky said, and then regretted it immediately. This wasn’t something he ever planned on talking about with co-workers.

“Really?” Darcy said, her mouth agape. “Dude. She’s… _smoking_. She’s like, the hottest girl –” She stopped her sentence abruptly. “I – I didn’t know you dated her.”

“I don’t talk about that stuff, usually,” Bucky said. “We broke up six weeks ago.”

Darcy’s eyes bulged even more. “What?”

Bucky swallowed, attempting a shrug. “Yeah.”

Darcy considered this, and she must have worked out how things transpired, because she dropped the subject completely, going back to fiddling with the music.

They arrived at the Cheesecake Factory and Bucky pulled into the very edge of the parking lot, and Darcy climbed out of the car without opening the door, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“I’ll be back.”

She left him, and Bucky smoked in silence, watching the families coming and going. She was gone for several minutes, or it felt that way. Bucky’s eyes were trained on three young men making their way past his car.

Bucky was about to put his car in reverse and move when Darcy appeared behind him with a bag of food, smile wide.

She placed the bag in the back seat and climbed over the door again like before, sniffing the air.

“I’m so excited. I got orange chicken and nachos, and then dessert is a raspberry lemon cheesecake or the Reese’s Pieces cheesecake,” she said, buckling her seatbelt.

Bucky reversed out of his spot and drove out back onto the road.

“You couldn’t decide so you got two?” he said, and Darcy laughed.

“No, and I hope I’m not ruining your diet with my choices,” she said. She glanced over at him, expectant, and Bucky shrugged, exhaling smoke in the direction of the wind over his shoulder.

“What? You’re kidding,” Darcy said. “How is that fair? You look like –”

She gestured her hand up and down at his person and he met her eye. She looked genuinely annoyed.

“- _that_ when I eat nothing but salad for two weeks. Seriously?”

“I have a high metabolism,” Bucky said, and he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“What did you have for dinner last night?” she asked, and Bucky had to think about it.

Last night he took a Xanax with his beer to make him drowsy enough to finally sleep. He watched _An American in Paris_ to pass the time. The colors started to blend together by the end of it, and he woke up before dawn still on his couch.

“Pizza,” Bucky finally answered, when he remembered, which caused Darcy to scoff.

“My natural shape is hippo while yours is…”

She did another wave of her hand.

“…G.I. Joe,” she finished.

“You’re not a hippo, Darcy,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head.

“I’m a very hungry, hungry hippo,” Darcy said, but she was smiling at him. “So how much further?”

“Not far,” Bucky said.

He changed lanes to pass someone as Darcy looked around his neighborhood. She looked fascinated, glancing at the street names and the smaller houses.

“I didn’t think you’d live around here,” she said finally, and Bucky didn’t respond.

He knew what she meant. He made millions of dollars last year and it didn’t show in where he lived. When they pulled up at his condo, Darcy jumped over the door again and grabbed the bag of food, following Bucky inside.

“I mean, it makes sense, I guess,” Darcy muttered under her breath.

Thankfully, the maid had been that afternoon and his place wasn’t a completely pigsty. The place smelled clean, too. She must have aired everything out. Bucky decided it was best not to smoke inside with Darcy there.

Bucky found them some plates in the kitchen while Darcy hovered, unsure.

“Go sit down in front of the TV,” Bucky said, and she nodded.

He followed her with their plates and cutlery and Darcy smiled up at him, taking a plate from him and helping herself to the orange chicken.

She went very quiet as she ate, quite contented. Bucky couldn’t help chuckling.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I got a movie in mind.”

“Is it _Badlands_?” Bucky asked. “Or _True Romance_?”

Darcy nodded, her mouth full. She swallowed. “Did Stephen tell you to watch those, too?”

Bucky nodded back at her.

He sat down next to her with his own plate, going for the nachos. Darcy picked up the TV remote and found his Ti-Vo, skimming through his list.

“I’d rather watch _True Romance_ ,” Bucky admitted, causing Darcy to pause.

“I haven’t seen _Badlands_ ,” she said.

“I can tell you what it’s about,” he said, and she smiled at him.

“It’s like I’m copying your homework.”

He thought of girls in high school whose homework he’d borrow in between classes, in between kisses and whatever else he could get away with.

“Did you use to do that?” she asked him, because something must have shown on his face.

“Yeah,” he said. “A lot.”

She just smiled at him, selecting _True Romance_. As the movie began they ate, and Darcy seemed to be enjoying herself.

Bucky saw the movie a few years ago with Steve at a little theater in Brooklyn that ran older movies.

“You want something to drink?” Bucky murmured, and Darcy nodded.

“Please.”

He rose from his spot and went to his refrigerator, scanning for something she might like.

“You got any beer?” she called out, and he smiled to himself again.

“Yeah.”

He came back with two Coronas with wedges of lime stuck in them and Darcy grinned.

“Thank you so, so much,” she said, like he’d just changed her tire for her. She took a bottle from him and sipped happily.

As the movie progressed, Darcy smiled a lot at Alabama.

“I can see why Stephen wanted me to watch this,” she murmured. “I love her so much. She’s adorable.”

There was the scene when Alabama and Clarence have sex in the phone booth and Bucky took a long drink while he stared straight ahead.

Darcy bit her lip. “That’s kinda hot.”

Bucky chuckled, glancing at her.

“Right?” she said.

“Yeah, it’s hot,” he murmured.

He was so glad she caught him just before he left the set that day. This was so much easier than trying to make that sex scene they did less awkward. The night after that particular day, Bucky felt terrible. The whole ordeal had the same intimacy of a doctor touching their patient, and Bucky hated that there was more of it to come.

They shared another smile and kept watching, until Bucky heard a soft buzzing coming from Darcy’s general direction, and she put down her plate on the coffee table and pulled out her phone.

“Shit, it’s my mom,” she murmured. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Bucky said softly, pausing the movie as Darcy unlocked her phone and answered it.

Her whole demeanor changed as she stood from her spot on the couch and spoke in a low voice. She spoke a language Bucky hadn’t heard in the longest time – Yiddish – and she switched back and forth to English while she paced near the door to Bucky’s backyard.

She caught him staring at her and Bucky looked away, lowering himself further into his seat, wishing he was less obvious. He heard her say his name and he made sure not to turn around.

More Yiddish, and then a tap on his shoulder. He glanced up to see her phone near his head.

“My mom wants to talk to you,” she said, lips quirked.

“Uh, okay,” he said, and he took her phone, putting it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, sweetheart. How are you?” the woman on the other end said, and Bucky’s surprise must have been obvious because Darcy began to laugh.

“I’m good, Mrs. -?”

“Lewisinski,” she said. “But call me Betty.”

“Hello, Betty,” Bucky said. “How are you?”

“I’m doin’ okay. Are you two spending your Friday together?”

“Mm-hm,” Bucky replied, and his eyes stayed fixed on Darcy as she sipped her beer and watched him. “We’re watching a movie.”

“I saw you in that _Escape the Cape_ movie the other day,” Betty said, and Bucky held his breath. It was the one that showed his bare ass.

He felt a deep blush spread over the back of his neck. His ears were hot and he put a hand over his eyes. All the while, Darcy was chortling to herself.

“Beautiful face,” Betty said, totally unaware. “Adorable face. You makin’ a good movie with Darcy? Don’t forget to give her a kick up her butt if she’s given’ you a hard time.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will,” Bucky said. He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Oh, you’re _adorable_ ,” Betty cooed. “Be honest. Will I like the movie or not?”

“It might not be your thing,” Bucky said, licking his lips. “Very violent in some parts.”

He didn’t dare mention the nudity. He knew from past actor girlfriends that telling your parents about a sex scene was usually painful and awkward.

“No, no thank _you_ ,” Betty said. “I might skip it, then. You got a mother you should be callin’ sometime this weekend?”

“Yeah, I should,” Bucky said, thinking of his mom in Brooklyn.

She was by herself in that apartment but she never wanted to move, even when Bucky tried to buy her a house. He covered her rent and she still held it against him even though it meant she didn’t have to worry about bills ever again. Bucky hated that what he had to offer wasn’t something she wanted. He’d be asked about Rachel for sure, all sorts of painful questions he’d rather dodge. Like, why was she marrying some soccer player instead of Bucky?

“You tell her hi from me, I hope your ma’s doin’ okay,” Betty said, her voice softer.

Bucky swallowed. “Yeah, thanks. I will.”

He said bye to Betty and hung up, handing Darcy her phone and turning toward the TV screen and sinking into the couch.

He pressed play and Darcy smiled at him again but he was less vibrant in return.

“I didn’t know you were…” Bucky began, and Darcy frowned slightly.

“A Jew?”

“Lewis is short for Lewisinski?” Bucky asked, and Darcy nodded.

“Polish,” Darcy said, pointing to herself. “What about you?”

“Irish,” he said, and her lips quirked.

“Catholic, oh boy,” she murmured, her beer bottle to her lips. “I’ve dated a few of you. Whole lotta issues.”

“I’m _lapsed_ Irish Catholic,” Bucky said, trying not to sound too defensive. He hadn’t been to Mass since he was seventeen and dropped out of high school to move to California.

“You’re always Catholic, my dude,” she murmured, her eyes on the screen in front of them.

He supposed she had a point. He had the fear of God drilled into him when he was four and found out what Hell was, and he knew the Catholic Church didn’t like a lot of his movies. Steve was more devout, but even he had limitations. It was hard to try to be religious when Bucky lived in this part of the world where hypocrisy ran rampant.

“I guess you’re always Jewish,” he said, and Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it,” she murmured. Her eyes swiveled from the TV to him. “Thanks for talking to my mom. I knew that was painful.”

“She was nice,” Bucky said, his words delicate.

Darcy began to laugh. “Thank God you’re an actor. You’re almost convincing me.”

They fell silent as they watched the rest of the movie, and Darcy turned her head toward Bucky as the credits rolled.

“You want dessert?”

Bucky forgot about the slices of cheesecake and he rose to retrieve them but Darcy held out a hand to stop him, volunteering to go instead.

She returned with the cheese cakes and two forks.

“We can share both,” Darcy said with a smile.

She placed them on the coffee table and sank her fork into the lemon raspberry one, staring into space as she chewed and swallowed.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” Darcy managed, before going to the Reese’s one and taking another mouthful.

Bucky went for the peanut butter and chocolate one first because it was his favorite, and Darcy pointed at it, nodding.

 _“This_ ,” she said, and Bucky nodded back at her.

Her eyes were wide and bright as she ate.

“I have to think otter, otter, otter next week, though,” she murmured, taking another mouthful of the lemon raspberry one. “We have the wedding.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was in fittings all yesterday. I don’t think Natalie could even afford half of those and Stephen gave in. I still have to wear a veil though and the Goodwill dress we got is kinda tight.”

She glanced at Bucky and shook her head.

“Sorry. Boring bullshit,” she murmured.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t usually hear about that.”

“Right,” Darcy said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m glad I don’t have some dietician breathing down my neck like in those franchise movies –”

She stopped short, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Not that those types of movies are bad. I mean, they’re just different. I mean –”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said. He swallowed his mouthful while Darcy still looked sheepish. “I don’t want to make those movies anymore. I hated that everything was so manufactured. I saw what those girls went through on set. Everything was constantly picked apart.”

Except Bucky never had that problem personally, but he didn’t add that detail. He didn’t want Darcy having more evidence that he was a spoiled man-child when they’d only worked one week together.

Darcy nodded, putting down her fork.

“I’m going to do everything I said I’m going to do,” she said, and Bucky wondered what she meant. “Stephen wrote a big list of stuff I had to do as Natalie and I said yes. I wanted this so much.”

“Me, too,” Bucky said. Except Stephen wrote Jack with him in mind. Darcy had less advantage.

“He also said people will always associate me with her after this,” Darcy added. “If enough people see the movie.”

Bucky had seen some of the dailies and Darcy was incredible. He was lucky to have her.

“I hope people see it, for you,” he said, and Darcy’s face changed.

There was a brief silence and Darcy sighed.

“I hated Tuesday,” she murmured.

“Me, too,” Bucky said. He gave a weak smile.

“With those kinds of scenes I don’t know how much to give. I get scared I’m giving too much, like I’m doing porn,” Darcy mumbled.

She sounded tired for the first time that night and Bucky watched her pick apart something in her head and pack it away, smiling at him again.

“But we make a good team,” she said.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky murmured. His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

“My mom’s gonna call it a snuff film no matter how beautiful it turns out,” Darcy said.

That sounded familiar. Bucky’s own mom had a hard time watching anything he was ever in but she still bought a ticket. She didn’t go to premiers. She said it wasn’t her scene whenever he offered to take her to them.

“I have to do my rape scene next week.”

Bucky felt his stomach drop and he stared at her. “What? Isn’t that at least a month away?”

Darcy shrugged. “Clint has HBO breathing down his neck and he has to do all his scenes in the next couple weeks.”

Bucky blinked at her. “Do you want me there?”

He knew he sounded like a fool the second he said it. He sounded too much like Jack, wanting to be there for his wife. He hardly knew her, but she’d seen him completely naked.

Darcy blinked back at him. “I guess so. Bethany’s meant to be there, of course. Clint’s gonna hate it.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said.

He knew it was part of the script but it was the part of the movie that bothered him the most. It seemed like an unnecessary part of the plot, but it tied other parts together.

“Does that mean I have to stab him sooner?” Bucky asked, and Darcy chuckled.

“Yeah, Mike you mean,” she said, and he nodded.

He offered to drive Darcy home but she insisted on taking an Uber so he didn’t argue. When he shut the door behind her when she sat in the car that picked her up, she waved at him.

He walked back inside slowly, dreading the quiet. It wasn’t even that late. He could drive somewhere else and crash a party. Instead, he lay on the couch and watched _Badlands_ , thinking about how cute Sissy Spacek looked in her shorts forty years ago.

It was too late to call anyone back home. He could text a girl’s number in his phone and let that play out, but he knew what those girls thought of him. He was the one creep that always turned up again, unwanted.

He managed to doze after he swallowed some Xanax but was ripped back to reality as his phone rang on the coffee table.

He was groggy and clumsy, fumbling for his phone and answered it without checking the number.

“Hello?”

“Good, you’re still up.”

Bucky took his phone away from his ear, squinting at the display.

“Stephen, it’s _two in the morning_.”

He knew that usually meant shit to him, but most put together people were asleep by then and Bucky wanted to pretend to be one of those people for a little while longer.

“Do you believe in God?”

“What?” Bucky said, incredulous. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“I keep thinking Jack believes in God and maybe _I_ should, too.”

Bucky tried to shake off the drowsiness but it only made his head hurt.

“I’ll see you Monday, Stephen. Get some sleep.”

“Wait, I asked you –”

“I don’t,” Bucky said abruptly, because that was the truth. “I think if God existed we’d have disappointed him a long time ago. Me included.”

Fuck, he was high. He was so high he couldn’t even see straight. He said too much. He should have just hung up.

“You’re so much like Jack,” Stephen said finally, after a long silence between them.

“I’m not,” Bucky said, and he noticed his slurring for the first time. “I’m half asleep, Stephen. I’ll catch ya Monday.”

He’d never said _catch ya_ in all his life but he hung up, dropping his phone on the coffee table with a loud clatter. He wasn’t like Jack because Jack at least gave a shit, and he had people to take care of and vice versa.

Bucky grunted as he lay down once more.

-

The highlight of the following week was the wedding march scene they filmed. All it contained was one long take of Darcy walking down a path to a floral archway Bucky stood under with a celebrant who then conducted their wedding ceremony.

It was easy, it was sweet. All Bucky had to do was smile at Darcy and kiss her when he was asked to.

This was Bucky’s third onscreen wedding, his first one as a groom. In real life of course he’d never been married, hadn’t even come close to proposing to a girl.

When he danced with Darcy for the reception scene the laughter was real, and the kisses were something he was used to doing. Not that it was boring, ever. Darcy always looked so beautiful close up, and her mouth was always so soft and pliant.

She looked like the perfect little bride in her dress and veil, her curves hugged by the lace and cream fabric. Bucky’s suit was meant to be too big for him, like Jack borrowed it off someone. They were meant to be at a high point and Bucky could feel it in every touch and glance Darcy threw his way.

She had to like him, even if it was just a little bit, because the next day when Bucky arrived on set though he wasn’t in the scene she didn’t turn him away.

Clint looked like a ball of nerves, shaking his head at Bucky when he shook his hand hello. Bethany gave Bucky a smile while Stephen was surprised to see him there.

“It’s your day off,” he said by way of greeting, eyebrows furrowing.

“I wanted to be here,” Bucky replied.

Darcy walked in looking paler than ever. She looked unwell.

“Hey,” she breathed, and then she spotted Bucky. “Oh, you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Bucky managed to reply, his hands going into his pockets. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Darcy said.

The set had been transformed into Clint’s dingy bedroom and they stood away from the cameras while the rest of the crew set up.

“We have a lot to discuss,” Bethany said, and Darcy nodded.

“Stephen, I can’t do this,” Clint said suddenly, and Stephen’s eyes widened slightly before he recovered. “It’s too much.”

“Okay,” Stephen said.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Clint added, “You can fire me, you can contact my lawyer, but I can’t do a scene like this. I thought I could, but –”

“Mike doesn’t have to rape her,” Stephen interrupted. He didn’t seem too troubled by Clint’s outburst. He glanced at Bethany. “We can revise the scene.”

“I think it’s still important for Natalie to have this secret from Jack,” Darcy said. “Mike could attempt something but then he stops but the damage is already done.”

The whole point of the rape scene was never fully explained, but in the original script Natalie is meant to go to Mike to settle a debt so that Jack can escape from his life of crime, but she can’t go through with sleeping with Mike because she wants to be faithful to her husband. Mike was then meant to rape Natalie and she keeps the secret knowing that Jack will kill Mike for attacking her.

“Mike still gets killed,” Clint said, his voice less anxious as before.

Stephen thought about it for a moment, his eyes traveling over the bed on the set behind them and then he glanced at Bucky.

“What do you think?” he asked, and Bucky felt all eyes on him.

He remembered he had more of a say in the creative process. It was part of his contract.

“Whatever Darcy wants,” he said, and Stephen blinked.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. Darcy jumped at the sound. “We’ll set up and figure out the logistics.”

Bucky felt someone squeeze his hand and saw it was Darcy, smiling at him gratefully.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything to that. He should have brought up changing the scene weeks ago before they even hired someone for the role of Natalie. He’d been too selfish to think of how any of the other scenes affected his co-stars.

So what if he looked like an idiot with his cock out? Darcy and Clint had to film an attempted rape.

He sat by while they devised the scene. To Stephen’s credit, he never argued with either actor involved.

When Stephen finally called action, it was hard to watch. Bucky couldn’t imagine what it was like to be either Darcy or Clint in that situation.

“Mike, don’t,” Darcy said, trying to pull away from Clint’s kiss.

He pressed his mouth to her throat and wrestled her to the ground, and Darcy let out a shriek.

“Mike, don’t! No!”

She struggled under him as he pulled at her shorts, tearing the seams as he tried to get them down. Darcy pushed at his face as hard as she could and Clint let go, wide-eyed.

“Nat,” he murmured, but Darcy had turned her head to the side, staring at the wall while he tried to apologize. “I’m sorry, honey. Natalie, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, cut,” Stephen said, his voice quieter than usual.

Clint separated from Darcy and pulled her up, waiting for what Stephen had to say.

Bucky watched as they did the scene three more times in varying ways, each ending the same way with Mike trying to apologize to Natalie.

Darcy’s eyes were glassy by the end of it, staring blankly to the side with Clint above her. It was enough to break Bucky’s heart, and when Stephen told them it was over, Darcy got up straight away, walking off set without looking back.

Bucky didn’t hesitate. He followed her outside and down the street away from everyone. He could hear that she was breathing heavily and she put out her hand to lean against a neighbor’s fence and catch her breath.

“Fuck,” she hissed.

Bucky saw Bethany looking at them with concern and he cleared his throat.

“You okay?”

Dumb question. Of course she wasn’t okay.

“What can I do?” he asked. She glanced up at him, frowning.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. It’s not even real.”

“Darcy, it’s a big deal,” Bucky said, feeling his eyes go wider. “It matters.”

“Yeah, I know,” Darcy snapped. She grit her teeth. “Sorry. I just can’t stop shaking.”

Bucky let his hand fall to her shoulder without thinking but she didn’t try to move away from him. She closed her eyes and Bucky saw tears fall down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, and he pulled her into a hug, her arms wrapping around his middle as she buried her face in his chest. “It’s okay.”

She sniffled. “You’re so nice to me.”

“No, I’m not,” Bucky said, feeling his stomach twist. She was too close. He was being too familiar. She was just doing her job. Bethany might rip them apart and accuse him of being inappropriate and he knew he couldn’t argue with her.

Darcy was holding on so tightly as if she didn’t want to let him go, but she had to be acting. She still had to be dealing with the last scene she did. She wasn’t holding him because she, Darcy, wanted to. It was all Natalie. At least, that was what he thought until she moved back, lowering her arms.

“I don’t care what you think, you are a nice guy. I don’t know who made you think you were bad, but you’re not. You’re really, _really_ nice to me.”

He was on the edge of arguing that he only was nice to her because he knew that was how he was supposed to act, but she shook her head at him when he opened his mouth.

He put his hands on his hips and Darcy laughed softly, sniffling.

“I’m glad I’m married to you,” she said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The random phone call is based on the time when Stephen King kept getting calls from Stanley Kubrick when he was making The Shining. He reportedly called King in the middle of the night because of their time difference, asking philosophical questions like it was integral to the story but King hated it. (He also hated the entire adaptation of The Shining, but that's another story.)
> 
> The rape scene was more or less my gripe with pop culture in general. I ranted at length to my boyfriend the other day after I saw Mississippi Burning and saw Frances McDormand get the shit kicked out of her in a really brutal and (in my opinion) unnecessarily graphic way. Why does a woman have to be raped in a show or movie? Why is she beaten? Why does this "have to" happen?
> 
> This isn't a criticism of Strange's choices as the writer/director of their movie. It was more Bucky looking outside of his own bubble of worries and understanding that he needed to be a better co-star within the cast. I'm not making Strange the bad guy. He's anything but, and we'll see more of him as we go on.
> 
>  
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	4. Part Four: Baby

_Hunger hurts but starving works when it costs too much to love._

\- "Paper Bag" by Fiona Apple

 

 

**Part Four: Baby**

 

 

After that day when Darcy cried and Bucky hugged her to his chest, something changed between them. There was a lightness to their relationship, on and off screen. Bucky became someone he didn’t expect; an actor whose role was preferable over his personal life. It had always been the opposite in other movies. He couldn’t wait to get out of his costume and into someone’s bed because his work was mind-numbingly dull.

He and Darcy moved onto the second phase of the shoot. These were the present years, the ones where they were married with a baby. Stephen chose a pair of twins to be their baby Lily. The twins did not resemble either Bucky or Darcy that well but at least the babies looked like each other and were swapped back and forth with little to no issues.

“Can I do the slate?” Darcy asked one morning.

She sat up from her lying position in their double bed, the one that was meant to be Jack and Natalie’s old mattress with mismatched bedding. Bucky had one arm across her middle that she slipped out from under, kneeling forward to reach the slate someone passed her.

Bucky glanced at her rear end, seeing the small pair of black underwear she wore. She had a heart-shaped ass and it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed it, but it was the first time that he felt the urge to reach out and touch the soft white skin of her generous cheeks. The realization that he wanted to touch her had him readjusting himself under the sheet and looking at the ceiling as he waited.

Luckily his cock stayed unimpressed in his boxer briefs. He felt Linda’s hand in his hair, adjusting the bedhead she’d achieved in the makeup trailer an hour ago.

The thought of what Darcy said the other week – _I’m glad I’m married to you_ – for the umpteenth time. In the moment, he replied, “Is the bar really that low?” and Darcy just shook her head at him.

Bucky heard the snap of the slate and Darcy passed it back to someone, lying down on her side next to Bucky, his arm returning to her middle.

When Strange called action, Bucky pressed up against Darcy and kissed the back of her neck, nuzzling her. She smelt good. He tried not to think about how her ass felt against his crotch.

“Go check on her,” Darcy murmured, referring to the baby.

“In a second,” he replied against her neck.

“Daddy, go check on your baby,” she said, but she lay still as he kept kissing her.

They repeated the exchange a few times at Strange’s request. Bucky liked the fantasy of being beside a beautiful woman with their baby in the next room. It was a fantasy because he knew it was nearly impossible for him to follow through with commitment. Fatherhood was probably something he shouldn’t pursue. The kid would have some kind of complex by having a famous dad, but Bucky was not fit for raising a child. He knew he was still a child in a lot of ways. The industry did not encourage actors to grow, in fact Bucky often saw regression in other men.

He’d pretended to be a father in several movies, but none of those roles required the dedication of this one. He spent so little time with his pretend children in other movies. Strange had hours of footage of Darcy and Bucky playing with their daughter Lily.

Strange had a myriad of scenes in general. Probably hundreds of hours that he’d need to get through for editing. Since the bizarre phone call Bucky had with his director, Strange became somehow more devoted than ever to the process. He was meant to be the editor. After a relatively easy day of playing with the twins on screen, Strange caught Darcy and Bucky in the makeup trailer.

Darcy was in the middle of removing her makeup with a balm she warmed between her fingers. Bucky’s was an easier process. He just had to change a shirt. He had a cigarette between his lips as he pulled his jacket back on when Strange ducked inside.

“You guys got plans tonight?” he asked, and Bucky glanced at Darcy, who’d turned in her chair.

“No,” she said, and Bucky shook his head. “What’s up?”

Strange’s hair has become increasingly untidy as the day progressed. Usually by the end of each day he’d be rabid to leave to edit for the night, his various staff following him out before Bucky had a chance to say goodbye.

“You both need to see some of the dailies,” Strange said. He looked at Bucky. “You only saw the early ones. These ones are essential.”

“Why?” Bucky said, cigarette bobbing.

“Atmospheric… reasons,” Strange said, sounding annoyed. “Consistency. _Vibes_.”

“He wants you to pick a word,” Darcy said to Bucky, eyebrows hiking.

She turned in her chair to grab her towel and pat at her scrubbed face. She was completely bare and pink from rubbing.

“Vibes, then,” Bucky grunted, because he knew that would piss Strange off a little bit. “You’re worried about vibes.”

Strange narrowed his eyes just slightly before sighing. “Dinner at my place? I need a verbal confirmation before the union comes after me.”

“Yes,” Darcy and Bucky said together.

Bucky drove alone to Strange’s bungalow. It took over an hour to get there because of traffic and Bucky made his way through several cigarettes, wishing he was quicker than Stephen to ask Darcy if she wanted to leave the set with him.

As he pulled up at Stephen’s place, Darcy was waiting for him, a black cat in her arms as she smiled at him from the open doorway.

Bucky smiled at her as he walked up the steps to the front door.

“This is Zero,” Darcy said, meaning the cat. “Say hello, Zero.”

Bucky scratched Zero behind the ears and the creature began to purr. Strange must have been somewhere inside. Bucky came in after Darcy, seeing her move through the house with such ease he had to wonder how many times she’d been there.

Bucky had only been there once before, when he came to meet Strange for the first time. Their director came into view as Darcy led them through to the living room, Zero still purring in her arms as they walked.

“There he is,” Strange said. He sat on one of the plush sofas in front of the mammoth television screen that took up most of the room, and the entire back wall.

“I ordered pizza on the way here,” Darcy said, placing Zero next to Strange. She turned toward Bucky expectantly. “You want a drink?”

“Beer, please,” Bucky said, and Darcy grinned.

She was too nice. It wasn’t meant to be that easy to get along with him, but she made it natural. Bucky just went along with it on camera, and any chemistry that was between them was to Darcy’s credit alone.

“You speed to get here before me?” Bucky asked as Darcy took off down the hallway to retrieve their drinks. He remembered Strange having a butler of some kind and wondered if they had the night off.

“Nope. Maybe you just drive slow,” Strange retorted. Zero jumped on the back of the couch and walked across it to rub his face against Strange’s head.

Bucky sat down on one of the other couches and chose not to reply to the jab. It was better to ignore Strange when he was kind of an asshole.

Bucky checked his phone to see he had a new text message from Steve.

_Can you call me sometime?_

Bucky was tempted to reply with just the words _I could_ but instead put his phone away. He’d rather not think about Steve worrying about him from thousands of miles away. Rachel was all over the news still with her impending nuptials and people were occasionally asking Bucky’s publicist for a quote but he usually never publicly acknowledged his girlfriends, ex ones or otherwise.

When Darcy finally returned she had a tray with a teapot on it with an empty teacup. Her beer was next to Bucky’s, which he took when she handed it to him.

Darcy put the tray down and proceeded to pour Strange a cup of tea. She left them for something again, coming back with a little jug of milk and a sugar bowl.

“I can’t remember, is it -?” she began, and Strange smiled at her.

“Two,” he replied, and Bucky felt his stomach twist.

He looked away, staring at the screen in front of them while Darcy fixed the cup of tea with two sugars and a splash of creamer. She handed the teacup to Strange and sat down beside Bucky, sipping at her beer.

“What are we watching?” she asked, and Strange put down his tea after a careful sip.

He picked up several remotes, syncing something to a caster before footage from the week popped up on the screen in front of them.

 _“I’m slating!”_ yelled Darcy, holding a slate and snapping it over and over. She was giddy and jumping up and down with Bucky smiling behind her in the background, watching her play it up for the camera.

 _“Take – eighty something! Snap! Hi, Stephen!”_ she yelled.

Bucky smiled as they watched the dailies because when Darcy broke character she usually cut the tension by making a face and yelling.

 _“Shit fuckin’ shit,_ ” was one blooper from Bucky, who’d managed to knock a photo frame over when moving through the set. He’d never sounded less eloquent but Darcy smiled at him.

Stephen wasn’t paying attention so much to their mistakes, skipping through to another day on a couch in the set’s living room where both Bucky and Darcy were nude from the waist up, kissing. Seeing the rough footage of one of their sex scenes was jarring and Bucky blinked at it, chugging his beer.

He remembered that day he could smell Darcy’s armpits. It was a certain musky scent that made him want to cuddle her closer. It probably caused the intense staring from him that day he could see on the screen now. He just looked so serious while simulating their dry humping. Minutes later, there was footage of Darcy pulling down Bucky’s boxers before sitting down on him again.

When they filmed that part it felt very unsexy, but watching it on the giant screen did something else for Bucky. Darcy’s wide eyes were believable. Seeing their bare hips together like that made Bucky stare a little longer than probably necessary, but there wasn’t anywhere else to look.

“We can’t constantly have it like this,” Strange said over the loud panting that could be heard. He waved at the screen. “It’s too good.”

Darcy snorted. “We’re making the sex look too good?”

“Yeah,” Strange replied. “It’s not like that.”

“It can be,” Bucky said, hoping he didn’t sound too defiant. His eyes met Darcy’s and he blinked. “Or does Jack suddenly have to be a terrible lay?”

Darcy made a face. “Can we at least cut down on these scenes? My hips are killing me.”

“Go to a physical therapist,” Strange snapped, until Darcy gave him a long look and he sighed. “Fine. But the sex can’t be like this every time. It needs to be true to life.”

Darcy began to laugh, louder than Bucky expected.

“I don’t know about you, but I like to _do it_ like that,” she said, after her mirth subsided. “It’s beautiful. It’s… very real to me. At least up there.”

“It’s all people will talk about,” Strange said. “The plot will be the second or third thing, after…”

He gave Bucky a wave.

“Hey, who _wrote_ that I was completely nude?” Bucky snapped, only to have Darcy laughing beside him again.

Strange put his face in his hands while the footage on the screen kept going. There was one take that ended with Darcy laughing breathlessly chest to chest with Bucky. That was after Strange had called cut. Bucky couldn’t remember what he said or did to make her laugh like that but he wished he did.

“I just want something different. I want something that transports an audience. Something so immersive it _feels real_ ,” Strange said, glancing from Bucky to Darcy. “You understand what I’m trying to say?”

“We have arguments to film. That whole scene in the supermarket next week –” Darcy began, but Strange shot up from his seat, making Zero jump.

“Wait, shut up!” he said. He pointed at them both. “I have an assignment.”

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

A part of him dreaded whatever idea Strange had. He heard of movies resorting to using unsimulated sexual acts for footage, and he had to refuse if it came to that. He knew he didn’t have it in him to do that scene on camera, knowing it was meant to be seen by an audience. It was different when he’d made a sex tape when he was around twenty-one and barely making ends meet. That girlfriend threw him out after he cheated on her, and all footage of their tryst was destroyed. Bucky made sure of that.

He got nude pictures from girls still but that was different. He never, ever sent nudes. He would plead stage fright when really he knew it was all too easy to leak something like that. He might use pills but he never did something as stupid as that. He didn’t think it was smart for any guy to send a picture of his dick, anyway. He figured once a girl saw one she’d basically seen them all. And girls didn’t ask, usually. If they asked Bucky backed off immediately, wondering if it was their plan all along.

He had to laugh at the absurdity of it all, pretending to have sex with Darcy for hours on end. Her hips were hurting from a non-sexual sexual injury. He passed a hand over his face as Stephen explained.

“Go do boring shit together.”

“Like… do our taxes?” Darcy asked, though they knew she was joking. Bucky had an accountant, anyway. He had no idea how much he paid in taxes and he supposed he should, but it was another thing he pushed aside. His accountant could be embezzling and he’d never know.

“I mean,” Strange said, going back to his tea and taking a couple sips. “Grocery shopping. Building IKEA furniture. Cooking – fucking _something_ that would usually require a team effort other than sex.”

“Gee, Stephen,” Darcy said, making a show of shrugging. “I just wouldn’t have a clue, with all my maids, assistants, stylists… I don’t think I’d know how to do any of that.”

“Me, neither,” Bucky grunted, and Darcy shot him a wink.

Strange ignored them, pushing on.

“I am challenging you to do this sometimes soon. A _real_ moment between you, in-character, where people can see you.”

Darcy stopped smiling, glancing at Bucky once more.

“I can push a cart,” Bucky said with a shrug.

-

Bucky was aware of the fact that Darcy was making fun of the Hollywood types that had everything done for them, and he was one of them. Close to everything he had he didn’t deserve, but he got it because he asked for it, and he didn’t even have to ask nicely.

His maid who cleaned up after him and washed all his clothes. He was a man in his thirties living like he was a child with zero consequences. He smoked like a chimney. He had pill bottles all over his condo all in his name, and not because he needed them all, he just knew multiple doctors. He had companies sending him clothes so he never had to shop, which he wouldn’t do anyway without a stylist to plan most of it for him. He never mowed his lawn, and he had no idea who did that for him but his garden was always immaculate.

He never even plucked a leaf out of his little pool out back. He only floated in it.

From what he learned about Darcy she was distinctly anti-L.A. The one time he Googled her, the Wikipedia page that came up was so sparse under the _Personal Life_ section. It just mentioned that she was Jewish and where she grew up – Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania – and nothing about men, women or anybody else who might be in her life. The _Career_ section was a plethora of information by comparison.

Bucky never Googled himself because it made him feel all types of weird but he knew Steve was more inclined to keep up with gossip. When he finally called him one night after work he was able to gauge more information about Darcy without having to ask her too many creepy questions to her face.

If she wasn’t Darcy, Bucky would have just come out and asked. He didn’t like that there were now two categories of girls in Bucky’s life – Darcy and the others.

“Her last boyfriend was some AD named Ian something. I went down this rabbit hole once you told me you were doin’ the movie with her,” Steve said.

Bucky was in the middle of his dinner on the couch, shoving fries in his mouth.

“How long were they together?” he asked with his mouth full.

“Eight years, I think,” Steve said.

 _Jesus_. Eight whole years? Bucky’s longest he managed was two, and they weren’t all that good anyway. So much screaming, but not from his side of it.

“What happened?” Bucky wondered aloud.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Steve retorted, making Bucky roll his eyes.

“Doesn’t work that way, punk.”

“Just be honest with her, tell her you want to –”

“What? Tell her what?” Bucky snapped. He flicked crumbs onto the floor.

Steve let out sigh. “Doesn’t matter.”

When he hung up later, Bucky felt worse than before. He hoped Steve would ground him but he just pointed out how different things could be if Bucky wasn’t so… _him_.

He thought about watching porn but he didn’t think he could handle how pathetic he’d feel after rubbing one out, so he went to his bathroom cabinet and found his Adderall.

He didn’t need it. Most people prescribed it in Hollywood didn’t need it but Bucky knew a guy who knew a guy whose doctor dolled it out like candy and Bucky wanted to stop being sober fast so he took one instead of half and slammed his cabinet shut, catching his reflexion.

He remembered he was meant to be spending the next day with Darcy and he glared at his own face, hating that he was always such a fucking coward.

He sped off into the night, hoping to be let down by some stranger in a bar because then it wouldn’t hurt as much, but he ended up at some strip club without hesitating.

He couldn’t remember the drive and could feel things were different. He needed to sit down somewhere or he might start bouncing on the balls of his feet.

The strip club was called _Laguna_ something – the sign was always broken and he never made out the words. He hadn’t been there in months but he was high, and seeing something beautiful seemed like a good idea.

The bouncer’s eyebrows rose at him and he smiled, letting him in. Being recognized there wasn’t the worst thing. It meant he didn’t have to ask for a dance. The girls flocked as he sat at the bar, hastily ordering a bottle of bourbon.

Soft hands on his arms and he turned his head to see a blonde and a redhead grinning at him, both of them hopeful.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said to the blonde, and the redhead moved away with her smile faltering.

The dancer just smiled back at him. “You want to get a room?”

She linked his arm with hers and they walked out to one of the VIP rooms in the back. It went so quickly but Bucky remembered the Adderall. Why didn’t he think of it sooner? He could feel like this forever if he rationed the pills carefully. He’d be able to ignore his guts twisting so much. He could make Darcy laugh again, her tits pressed up against his bare chest.

Darcy. _Darcy_. No – he was there with this dancer. She said her name was Jen. Her hair looked too shiny – she had to be wearing a wig. When she sat him on the couch with his bottle she stared up at her in awe, seeing her costume under the lights.

She did a little turn around the pole, smiling back at him. Her bikini was covered in rhinestones and Bucky ached to touch. His dick was hard already. Jen was so flexible, twisting and turning her little frame against the pole. She slid down it, hips rolling.

Bucky licked his lips and she began to laugh.

“Damn, I am so lucky,” she said, her voice almost entirely drowned out by the music. “You walking in here tonight. Big handsome movie star.”

“I’m not really,” he replied, as she was suddenly upside down, sliding down the pole, her wig lopsided. “He’s just a guy I play.”

She righted herself, pulling one strap of her bikini top down her shoulder and then the other.

“You mean you play a character.”

“I play both,” he said. “Bucky Barnes, too.”

He said it because it was true. Steve was right, he just needed to be honest. Jesus. _Steve_. He loved Steve so much, but he lived so far away. He hadn’t seen him since the Christmas before last.

Jen was topless and moving to the music, still smiling.

Bucky remembered he needed to reward her and fished out his wallet, finding some money. He didn’t even count it, just moved closer to slip it between her bikini bottoms and her hip.

“Thank you, baby,” she murmured, and he smiled up at her.

He pointed at her wig. “You brunette under there?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Take it off,” he said. He didn’t say please, just handed her more money.

Her tits bounced a little as she laughed. She obliged, taking the wig off along with the cap underneath. She tossed her head back, teasing her long brown hair with one hand, the other still on the pole.

She did more turns. She was like an acrobat, a sexy little acrobat with a big smile and Bucky just stared and stared at her while the music pumped.

Bucky bit his lip as she pulled down her bottoms and kicked them aside. She giggled at him, bug-eyed Bucky flying high as a kite.

He laughed at her. “Fuck. I just wanna –”

“What, baby?” she asked, teasing him with a little wiggle off her hips. “You want me?”

Other places would have a security guard beating down the door by now but Bucky chose this place because he knew it was one of the seedier clubs.

“Yeah.”

Bucky wiped the sweat from his brow he hadn’t noticed until now. Jen crouched, leaning toward him with her tits falling down.

When he kissed her, she didn’t taste of anything. Bucky pushed his tongue into her mouth and she made a surprised sound at the force of him against her. He pulled her into his lap and they fell back against the couch.

When she moved back for air, Bucky froze. For a split second he saw Darcy, her big blue eyes hooded and glazed with lust. He blamed the Adderall, his hands falling away from Jen’s body to ball into fists.

She didn’t notice or chose not to, because she proceeded to go down on him. She worked him over in greedy sucks, causing Bucky to groan. He couldn’t help it as a hand went to the back of her head to hold her in place.

He took no time at all to come, and when she stood up above him with her hand outstretched, he felt something split deep inside his chest.

“That’s extra,” she said, her voice less sweet. She’d just swallowed him up and her makeup was ruined, her hand insistent.

He handed her about a thousand dollars more before tucking himself back in his jeans and getting up. He swiped the liquor bottle and took off.

He knew he was a mess. He was out of control, ‘mess’ didn’t even begin to cover what Bucky was. He drove all the way home, panic stricken by the time he reached his street. He was sweating so much his hands were slipping on the wheel.

He realized he’d left his jacket at the club but there was no way he was going back. He reached his living room again and went without a glass, taking a few steady gulps of bourbon to calm himself. He wished he could forget what just happened, but he knew no matter what he never would.

He didn’t sleep for hours. Among the panic he considered briefly calling poison control, but soon he was throwing up in the kitchen sink. He was a teenage boy again, but his mom wasn’t around to scold him.

-

He wore his darkest pair of sunglasses on his way to pick Darcy up. She lived half an hour away from him and the entire ride he kept trying to find the courage to call her and cancel, but by the time he figured out what to say to bail on her he was pulling up at her house.

He texted her that he was outside, hoping she wasn’t going to make him come inside.

She skipped down the steps in a sundress, looking like a dream and Bucky felt that familiar flipping on his stomach at the sight of her. She opened the door and sat down beside him, inspecting him.

“You hungover, baby?” she asked.

Her words threw him for a moment, and he was back at the club with Jen before he remembered that they were meant to be in character and Natalie frequently used that pet name. She smiled at him, her hand going to touch his hair.

It felt so good that Bucky closed his eyes for a second behind his glasses.

“Yeah, me and Mike got a little hammered last night,” he mumbled.

Darcy withdrew her hand, moving to buckle her seatbelt.

“You’re telling me,” she said, sighing. “You woke me up when you stumbled in this morning, stinking.”

Could she smell it off of him or was she just making that part up? Bucky didn’t dare clarify that, signalling to join the road once again.

They drove in silence until Darcy nudged Bucky and he looked down to see his wedding band from the set in the palm of her hand.

“Put it on,” she said. “I like it. It’s a sexy accessory.”

Bucky did as he was told, and then Darcy copied him with her own fake little diamond ring.

Darcy played with the radio and talked about Lily, how she was starting to remember colors. Bucky tried to keep up but his head was pounding. After a while, Darcy let her sentences trail off and she sighed.

If she was about to tell him she was disappointed he wasn’t trying harder Bucky wouldn’t be surprised. She took his left hand in hers and squeezed it.

“You okay?”

He didn’t know if it was her or Natalie talking.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, hearing his voice was rough. “I mean, I always am.”

He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her properly and Darcy was staring back at him with a sad look on her face.

“I’m happy with you here, baby,” he added, hoping she’d stop. His chest was starting to tighten too much for him to ignore. He changed the subject. “What do we need to pick up from the store?”

Darcy gave a small smile, her eyes still the same. “Lots. I made a list.”

Once they pulled up at a supermarket, Bucky jumped out of the car instead of using the door since it was something Jack would do, taking Darcy’s hand in his and pulling her along.

As they walked they adjusted so that Darcy could slip her arm around his waist, his arm over her shoulders. Everything about her was so soft but compact. He wasn’t the tallest guy but Darcy was small. Small but curvy, but Bucky needed to stop letting his eyes run up and down her whenever she wasn’t looking. It wasn’t fair on either of them.

He liked the weight of her body against his, he always did. He missed her when she moved away to grab a cart, and he took it from her to push along. It turned out there was a list, but it was for Darcy’s own kitchen. Bucky was more or less helping her do a weekly grocery shop, which he hadn’t done for several years. He rarely ever set foot in places like this anyway.

People were staring, but it was early enough in the morning that there wasn’t a crowd. Bucky tried his best to remember that the aim of the exercise was to be as real as possible. Jack would be easy-going about being in a store like this so Bucky needed to reflect that. He still didn’t lower his sunglasses though. It was a half-hearted disguise at best but no-one looked like they wanted to approach them as they perused the aisles.

Darcy got tofu. Natalie would never eat tofu so she said, “chicken” as she dropped it into the cart. She got mac n’ cheese and frozen berries and yogurt and seeds… the whole process seemed to happen around Bucky even though he was the one pushing the cart. Darcy would pluck something from out of nowhere and drop it into the cart. The packaging was rarely something Bucky recognized. His food showed up in Tupperware boxes, or lined up in his refrigerator or freezer.

Darcy gave a little sigh as they turned down another aisle, tucking her hair behind her ear as her eyes travelled up and down the shelves while she consulted her list.

“What are you staring at?” she murmured suddenly, and Bucky felt his heart hammer.

He was so caught up in it that he didn’t realize she was teasing. She turned her head toward him, crowding him. Her hand went to the side of his face and she stared up at his eyes through his sunglasses.

She stood on tip-toes and her lips brushed his. Bucky knew this was bound to happen but he felt himself freeze up just the same. She drew back, her thumb on his lip.

“You want a smoke?”

He nodded, because yes – he was suddenly desperate for one, and she just nodded back at him.

“We’re almost done. I just want a Sudoku and then we can go.”

That was Darcy then. She did a Sudoku puzzle nearly every morning while Linda did her hair. They went back to the magazine aisle and found what Darcy was looking for.

Bucky’s eyes fell to a gossip magazine with Rachel on the front, kissing the soccer player while in a white wedding dress. She was on multiple magazine covers.

“Christ,” Bucky blurted, and he set his jaw automatically, closing his eyes.

Darcy glanced at him and her face fell, realizing.

“Hey,” she said, and he shook his head. She was trying to bring him back to the exercise, but he was too hungover, too miserable, too _everything_. He couldn’t continue.

Rachel wasn’t the only one who did this. There were countless others that moved on fast from him. It was his fault, he didn’t blame them for anything. He did this to himself, like what happened last night.

“Who gives a shit?” Darcy whispered. “It’s her loss.”

Bucky let out a cruel laugh. “No, no, that is _not_ true. I won’t let you say that.”

He took off his sunglasses to rub his eyes, pushing the heels of his palms into against his eyelids and sighing. He wasn’t about to cry. Not here, not with her. He took a few long breaths before turning back toward the magazine racks. In the time it took him to calm down, Darcy had turned over every cover with Rachel on it.

His hands fell to his sides and he stared, Darcy flipping the final magazine before turning back to her.

“There. Better,” she said. She looked almost shy.

He wanted to kiss her so bad. Not as Jack. He’d kiss her everywhere, he wanted to throw her leg over his shoulder and feel her come apart with his tongue inside her.

Instead, he put his sunglasses back on, his stomach twisting while his face felt hot.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was painful to write, as you can probably imagine. I tend to pour my heart into my stories so the process can sometimes make me a bit of a mess, too. Ack.
> 
>  
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	5. Part Five: You decent?

_I'm the new blue blood,_  
_I won't fuck this over_

\- "Mr. November" by The National

 

 

**Part Five: You decent?**

 

 

It was the third night in a row that Bucky lay in his bed stone cold sober and wide awake. Since the encounter at the strip club he stopped using the pills. He hadn’t gone so far as flushing them down the toilet because having them still there was somewhat assuring.

He was in bed by eleven and then lay there for hours with nothing but his thoughts and the occasional car driving by to break the silence. He ate lighter meals and drank no alcohol. He went to the gym and left a sweaty mess but he was still awake until dawn.

He wasn’t sure if he slept at all. He began to dread each morning because he looked exhausted. There was no way he could fake a restful night.

Linda attempted to cover his dark circles but Strange was adamantly against it. Jack was going through a rough time and it fitted the character better if he looked tired. Strange didn’t ask why Bucky looked like shit, though. But Darcy did.

“You try meditating?” she said, winking. It was a running joke. Everyone in L.A. knew someone that suggested meditation or yoga for any ailment, including insomnia.

Bucky let out a breath of a laugh, shaking his head. He had actually tried a guided mindfulness exercise but he never drifted off.

Linda was rummaging through their wardrobe at the time as Darcy pulled on a cable knit sweater that hugged her chest, making her look warm and soft and inviting, but Bucky looked away from her body as always. Since their grocery adventure he was trying to back off from Darcy a little. They still got along well but he needed to keep his dignity intact and a stupid crush wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Bucky, I can’t find your jacket,” Linda said, and Bucky glanced at her, remembering. It was at that strip club with Jen.

“I don’t have it.”

Linda let out a sigh. “Seriously? We lost it?”

She sounded more frustrated at the situation than Bucky himself and she walked around the trailer searching for it. After a couple minutes of watching her fail to find it the guilt had got to him.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll wear something else,” he said, and Linda caught his eye, nodding.

“I guess we can go for a denim one. Damn it, I liked that one.”

“It’ll turn up,” Darcy said, unfazed.

Bucky spent most of his week doing action scenes. Jack was secretly robbing people with Mike and his gang while Natalie grew suspicious. It led to the scene in the grocery store that had Natalie pressing him about where the money came from, because she knew he was a lousy gambler.

The scene ended with Darcy yelling at Bucky with the baby in the shopping cart crying beside them. Once Strange called cut Darcy put her face in her hands, sighing.

“I hated that,” she murmured. “I hated that.”

Bucky patted her shoulder before picking up the baby playing Lily. She was screaming but he held her close. She began to calm down, hiccupping.

Darcy shook her head but smiled at them.

“How much are they paying you?” Bucky whispered to the baby, whose mom was coming over from behind the cameras. “Not enough.”

Darcy laughed at that. He handed the baby over and Darcy kept looking at him.

“You look tired,” she said.

“I am,” he admitted.

-

He answered Wanda’s call instead of letting it go to Voicemail like always.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

He liked that she seemed to actually care. She would call about the studio often enough. They wanted him to do some press for the piece of shit movie but he refused. The rest of the cast had done the same and Bucky wasn’t about to lie about how he felt. Wanda warned him he might get sued for violating his contract but he figured he could afford it if it came to that.

He probably should try to return his lawyer’s calls, too. In fact, he had three of them but none of them made him feel the way Wanda did.

“Okay,” Bucky replied. “You?”

She deflected the question. “I’ve got a Swiss company asking for you to be in their new campaign.”

“Do they sell chocolate?” Bucky asked.

He was wandering through his garden out back. The only light was from his burning cigarette and he liked the way the grass felt beneath his bare feet. By that time of night he was usually on the couch.

“Watches,” Wanda replied, and he could almost hear her smile. “What do you think? Want me to tell them to fuck off?”

Bucky laughed. She’d managed to pick up his attitude quick enough, but for once he was intrigued.

“You wouldn’t call if it wasn’t worth me considering it.”

“It’s four million dollars for one ad. Billboards, too,” Wanda said. “And these watches last a lifetime. They’ll give you one, too.”

Bucky licked his lips, considering. He didn’t need a watch. He had his dad’s old one with its worn leather strap he never wore. It stopped working over ten years ago and he never got it repaired but it sat on his nightstand next to his ashtray.

He didn’t need four million dollars. He needed to sleep.

“Can we make it a night shoot?” he asked. Maybe if he wore himself out enough he’d finally fold over into himself. “And speed it along?”

“Uh, sure,” Wanda said. She sounded surprised. “You certain?”

“Yeah, I trust you,” he said.

When he hung up, he took a long drag of his cigarette. He hadn’t said that to someone in a long time, and never someone he paid.

-

Bucky was about to leave the set for his second gig when he spotted Strange chatting to Darcy. Her head was thrown back as she laughed.

Bucky did his best not to react, walking over to them with an unlit cigarette in his hand, his lighter in the other.

Strange was holding three different switchblades while Darcy inspected them.

“We have to pick one,” he said to Bucky as he stopped beside him and stared.

“Are you okay?” Darcy asked Strange. She stage-whispered to Bucky, “They’re from his private collection.”

“Lies, all lies,” Strange replied. “They’re for the kill scene next month.”

They were more than halfway through the shoot. Bucky was surviving on caffeine alone, hoping this second job would knock him down. He signed the contracts in record time and he’d already sent off a watch to his mother in Brooklyn.

He didn’t want to think too much about the end of this shoot. It meant having to find something else to do. The routine of it would change. He hated that this industry was so fast-paced it almost made sense to be on Adderall.

His lack of sleep made him lose the majority of his libido, not that it was the worst thing to happen to him. Since the incident with the dancer Jen, sex was the last thing he wanted to explore. He knew coming might help him sleep but he’d tried that, jerking off in his shower before bed. He still felt unsatisfied. He hated that practically living like a monk still didn’t make it any easier.

He glanced at the knives and pointed to the one on the left. It was worn on the handle.

“Good choice,” Strange said with a small smile. Bucky would bet anything it was a test.

He just gave Strange a blank stare to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Drive me home?” Darcy asked, looping her arm around Bucky’s as he tried to make a run for it.

If only she’d asked that a couple weeks ago when he hadn’t signed the new deal. He shook his head.

“Can’t, I’ve got another shoot to get to,” he murmured, watching her smile falter.

“Oh,” she said. “Never mind.”

But Bucky did mind. Her disappointment was clear. “I’m sorry.”

“All good! Don’t worry about it, man,” she said. She patted his arm and moved away from him.

He took his time to walk to his car with Darcy still following him. He cleared his throat as he got in the driver’s side.

“You should come by my place sometime. If you want,” he said.

He thought she might react badly, like he was crossing some line, but he’d been at Strange’s house of number of times with her just hanging out and talking about the movie. He could feign naiveté if she accused him of being lecherous.

He didn’t seem to fuck up because her beaming smile was back.

“I’ll hold you to that. Sometime soon, and then we can get cheesecake again,” she said.

She waved him goodbye as he drove off.

-

The watch was undeniably well made because Bucky dropped it once by accident during the shoot. He became apologetic but the director waved it off.

“Throw it really hard next time,” said the female model opposite him, which caught Bucky’s interest.

So much for a low libido. She was gorgeous. Blonde and long-limbed with a neck he put his lips to for one of the photos. It was meant to be the big billboard shot. Apparently a man with an expensive watch was worth idolizing. Bucky didn’t want to put too much thought into any of it. At least the company paid him straight away.

The watch was heavy on his wrist and gunmetal in color with a black clock face and silver arms. He still preferred his dad’s watch with its cracked leather strap and scratched face.

The model was vaguely familiar. She was probably a Victoria’s Secret Angel, but a lot of them he struggled to tell apart.

“Anastasia,” she said, holding out her hand to him. They were halfway through their first night of shooting and she smiled at him as they sipped coffee.

“Bucky,” he said, shaking her hand. It was made up of delicate bones, her fingers as exquisite and long as a pianist’s. Her smokey eye makeup made her blue eyes stand out against her bronze skin.

“Bucky, like -?”

“Buchanan,” he said, and she smiled.

“You’re so cute,” she said. It was like a dream.

After they wrapped for the night Anastasia took up his offer for a lift anywhere she wanted to go.

“Your place,” she replied with a smile. She wasn’t asking, it was expected.

-

He slept with Anastasia each night of the shoot, three nights in total. The fourth time was after his mom called.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” she began when he answered her call.

He was home that night again, alone. He wasn’t sad about it. He just thought that having Anastasia would help but she didn’t. It wasn’t her fault. His brain just didn’t want to shut off. He put down his fork and frowned, wondering what he’d done wrong now.

He’d told his mom repeatedly not to go on the Internet or read any of the gossip magazines. She kept making that same mistake and called him every once in a while full of concern.

“Ma, what is it?” he asked.

“You can’t send me a watch like that!” she hissed. “It’s too much.”

It was such a typical response to his present that Bucky should have seen it coming. She never responded well to his gifts. She was a homebody and unfancy as hell. He should have known a watch would be a terrible idea.

“It’s a present.”

“I looked up how much it costs,” she went on, and Bucky looked at the ceiling.

“Ma, don’t do that. I wanted to give it to you.”

“I can’t wear a watch like that and go see my girlfriends around here. Not when they’ve got mortgages and kids needin’ braces –”

“Ma,” he interjected. “Just wear it at home, then.”

“I don’t want it, James,” she said, sounding aggrieved. “It’s not my taste. And what are you doing spending that much on a watch? You don’t understand money.”

Bucky felt his jaw set. “I did an ad for the company and I asked for the women’s watch so I could give it to you.”

She was right about the money thing. He didn’t know how much he had. He didn’t like spending money carefully. He knew he could afford it if he had bought it for her, though. He was new money and it showed. He had no idea what to do with it.

“Well, I don’t want it,” she snapped. Bucky could picture her crossing her arms if they were having the argument in the same room.

“Okay, send it back,” he murmured. “Or sell it.”

She made an irritated noise on her end. “I’m not going to _sell_ it. You gave it to me.”

“I don’t really care,” he said.

He hung up without saying goodbye, feeling like an asshole. He took a second to stare at the TV screen in front of him, wondering if he had the guts to have a night alone. It was still early.

He dialled Anastasia’s number and she was over within the hour and in his arms.

He managed to doze for ten or so minutes with his arms wrapped around her in bed when he heard his phone buzzing on the nightstand.

Anastasia groaned. “Bucky. Your phone.”

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. She pushed it toward him and he unlocked it.

“Hello?”

He felt his stomach drop as the voice on the other end replied:

“I’m taking you up on that offer. I know it’s short notice but I figured if I called earlier you might be at the gym or something. I’m out front. You decent?”

It was Darcy, and he was lying beside Anastasia in his bed, the pair of them completely naked. He glanced around the bedroom floor to find his pants and pulled them on while he put his phone between his shoulder and ear.

“Just give me a sec.”

He couldn’t think of what to do. He wasn’t about to turn her down, but there was no denying he had other company.

He was half awake as he made his way to the front door to answer it.

Darcy was standing with her phone to her ear and a Cheesecake Factory bag in her other hand. When she turned to see him standing there, her eyes dipped and Bucky remembered he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“You sure you’re decent?” she asked.

Bucky didn’t know how to reply to that, because there was no way she wasn’t staring at his toned stomach. Bucky knew what he looked like. He was in good shape, but having Darcy blush at the sight of him when she’d seen him naked before on set was something else. He knew he’d have the same reaction if she answered her own door topless.

“I’ve got a visitor,” he said, because he needed to be an adult for a second and act responsible.

He felt a hand brush his back and Anastasia squeezed between him and the doorway. She was dressed with her handbag swinging. She pulled him into a kiss that Bucky barely returned out of shock.

“See you, I’ll text you,” she whispered.

She glanced at Darcy and then walked off. Bucky had no idea where she was going and he knew he didn’t care. He cared about how Darcy was staring after her.

She glanced at Bucky, moving toward him and slipping past him to get inside.

“Past her bedtime or something?” she murmured.

“I guess so,” Bucky managed to reply.

He really was a scumbag. He probably smelt of Anastasia still. He’d gone down on her a couple times an hour ago and he hadn’t showered.

He closed the front door and followed Darcy through the house to the kitchen where she was getting a couple forks for their cheesecakes.

“I wasn’t interrupting something?” Darcy said, her eyes on the task of opening packages.

He didn’t like her tone. It was like she was making fun of him, like he didn’t realize how sad he seemed to everyone else. He crossed his arms over his bare chest automatically.

“No,” he said. He bordered on petulant.

“Where’d you find her?” she asked, glancing up at him, her eyes sharp.

“On set,” he replied.

Why was she asking? Why did she care? How was he supposed to stop feeling so guilty when all he’d done was let off some steam?

She didn’t have anything else to say to that, making her way to the living room and throwing herself down on the couch, tucking into one of the cheesecake slices. Bucky took the opportunity to find a clean shirt in his room and return to see Darcy glaring at the wall before her eyes snapped up to his, changed to something softer.

“I can’t sleep,” he said.

Darcy swallowed. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I can’t sleep but I don’t want to use pills or drink, so I took the watch company job to pass the time,” he said.

He sat beside her, feeling his insides twist with anxiety. He was rarely this honest.

“I shouldn’t talk about this shit,” he muttered, looking at his hands. “It’s so whiney and stupid.”

Darcy frowned. “Bucky…”

“I don’t deserve you feeling sorry for me, like at the supermarket –”

He pressed his lips together because he didn’t want to say Rachel’s name out loud. It was too much, too close to the bone.

“It’s dumb, other people have it way worse than me,” he muttered.

Darcy’s frown didn’t disappear like he hoped. She shook her head.

“Other people don’t have to deal with being in a franchise movie,” she said. She let out an exasperated sound. “Other people don’t know what it’s like. You couldn’t escape it even if you wanted to.”

Bucky blinked at her. “I could quit acting.”

“And that would be really, really sad,” she said, touching his arm. “Because you are talented.”

“I’m not as good as you.”

“Shut up,” she said, but her words lacked bite. “And I should have called before I came over. It’s not my business who’s… visiting you.”

She’d seen his dick and she couldn’t say ‘fucking’. There was something endearing about that.

“I mean,” she went on, shrugging. “If I looked like you and liked women I’d be with every supermodel I came across. I’d just go to New York Fashion Week with my arms outstretched like, come to me my pretties.”

Bucky laughed despite the tightness in his chest.

“How long you been dating her, anyway?” Darcy asked, returning to her cheesecake.

“We’re not exactly… dating.”

He said it in a low voice but Darcy still heard him, shaking her head while she smiled.

She took another mouthful of her dessert.

“Do what you gotta do, Buck,” she mumbled, her mouth full. “Maybe try those Cottington sisters from that Prada campaign.”

She was joking but Bucky had slept with both of them. When he didn’t laugh she stared at him, her mouth dropping.

“Seriously?”

He tried not to say anything but she slapped his arm.

“Seriously?” she repeated.

“Yeah.”

He wasn’t proud of that. Especially because he slept with their mom, too. She was only about ten years older than him but he hoped they never found out that one, because their parents were still married.

Darcy began to laugh and Bucky let her, feeling his face grow hot. It was the same reaction Steve had whenever he found out something about his sex life. The ridiculousness of it made Bucky self-conscious.

“What about you?” he asked as Darcy’s laughter subsided.

“I’m a single Pringle,” she replied. “Which isn’t surprising.”

“It actually is,” Bucky retorted before he could stop himself.

Darcy rolled her eyes but for the second time her cheeks were pinker, making Bucky’s stomach flip. She pushed the rest of her cheesecake toward him and started on the other one. Bucky didn’t start eating it until she finally elaborated.

“I’m busy. I don’t think people realize how busy a freelancing job is,” she said. She rolled her eyes. “My last boyfriend is in this industry and finally figured that out after eight years.”

“Eight years?” Bucky said, like he didn’t know that particular number.

Darcy nodded, sighing.

“Do you miss him?” Bucky asked. He couldn’t help himself.

“No,” Darcy said. She bit her lip. “I thought I should. But even when we were together I never missed him. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said. He wanted to tell her that he related to her entirely. He was always missing that vital component in every relationship – longing. The lack of yearning always unravelled everything in the end.

“What?” she half-squawked. “There’s so much wrong with me. First of all – I can’t stop eating shitty food.”

“This is not shitty food,” Bucky retorted.

“You know what I mean,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not like you. You’re physical perfection. I could really try harder –”

Bucky never knew what to say to something like that. He knew there were message boards dedicated to talking about his body. He met fans that went speechless at the sight of him. But he was just… Bucky. He looked like a familiar face so he couldn’t put the two ideas together, himself and himself being sexy. He knew he wasn’t ugly, but it also helped that he was rich and famous.

“You’re gorgeous,” he interjected, before Darcy could say more self-deprecating things.

He was right, that he knew for sure. Her body was killer. From what he remembered of her tits they were full and pert like something out of a pin-up fantasy.

“Okay,” Darcy said in a smaller voice. “Except –”

“Stop,” he said, putting his hand on hers. It probably wasn’t the best idea. His eyes were glued to hers as they fell silent, his skin still on hers.

If she was anyone else he’d prove to her how attractive she was by putting his hands on her, kissing her while he rubbed his crotch against hers while pressing her into the couch. He felt his cock twitch at the idea of pulling her sweater off of her but he pulled his hand back, eating his cheesecake.

“Why can’t you sleep?” Darcy asked.

Her voice was a murmur but the words felt like a blow. He should have known she was too close to him. She was asking a question a concerned friend would ask. She was over at his house because she was his _friend_.

He blinked at his food, letting his eyes stay fixed anywhere other than her face. He didn’t know how to answer that. He thought about it long enough. It seemed all connected, but just because he knew the cause of it he couldn’t stop it from happening over and over.

He was lonely. So fucking lonely.

He cleared his throat.

“I dunno.”

“I think you know,” she said. There was something cruel in her honesty.

Why was she doing this, pressing him? What was her deal? He dared to look at her and he swallowed.

“I don’t know,” he said, clearer. He did his best to keep his eye level with hers.

He did the same thing when they spent that day together, when she flipped all the magazines. He stopped talking as much, going along with whatever she wanted. They stopped pretending to be married the second they left the store and she asked him if he was okay.

He lied. He lied now, too. And she knew it.

“Okay,” she replied.

That night hours after Darcy left, he lay on a foam mat floating through his pool in the dark. He was holding the revelations close to his chest like a security blanket, but he knew then that after their shoot ended he’d miss her terribly.

He wondered how he was meant to cope, and he hated that he’d let it get that bad.

When she let the subject drop they watched one of Darcy’s movies from ten years ago. It was a zombie movie and Darcy wore a questionable Bettie Page wig with cloudy contacts in her eyes to look part sex kitten, part decaying human. It was not a good movie, but Darcy didn’t mince words.

“I hated this movie, but I loved making it.”

Bucky felt himself smile. He felt her eyes on him.

“We might go to Cannes.”

Bucky stared at her. “Did Stephen tell you that? I didn’t know how serious he was.”

“He’s so serious I think he’s got an ulcer,” Darcy said, laughing. “He wants to take the movie to Cannes, with you and me.”

Bucky hadn’t been to France in God knows how long. He shot some B movie over there when he was twenty-five. He made Steve come visit him at one point because he was stir-crazy bored.

“Cannes. Fuck,” Bucky murmured.

Lying in the pool, he listened to the crickets. He finally caved in and took a Xanax. He’d need to move soon or he could drown. The vague threat of that kept him awake, staring into the night.

Darcy kissed his cheek goodbye, stroking his face as he stood at his front door. Her Uber had pulled up and she was leaving him again.

“We just gotta finish the movie first,” she said, after she mentioned Cannes.

She kept looking over at him like she was waiting for him to open up again as they watched her crappy zombie flick. He couldn’t screw this up, not with her. She deserved better.

He couldn’t open up. If he disappointed her a little now it was better than a harder blow later on. He was too much. And he knew it was his fault, no-one else’s. The women in his life could only take so much excitement before they realized he was a selfish, desperate shell.

Alone, alone, alone. He swam to the edge of the pool and pulled himself up, his feet still in the water. He leaned back with the grass beneath his head as he drifted off, the memories of the night blurring in his mind.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	6. Part Six: Atta girl

_She will always be the only thing_  
_That comes between me and the awful sting_  
_That comes from living in a world that's so damn mean_

\- "My Beloved Monster" by Eels

 

 

**Part Six: Atta girl**

 

 

Anastasia cooled off right away, which Bucky expected. Their billboard was up in Tokyo somewhere and Wanda sent him a photo of it. It was supposed to be popping around L.A. in the next couple of months after _The Death of a Marriage_ wrapped.

Bucky would go for long drives at night around town, smoking and peering at the people he passed. Some of them recognized him instantly, others gave him confused glances, probably wondering why a man was speeding down the street with his sunglasses on in the dead of night.

He watched old movies, ones from half a century or more ago. There was a comfort in seeing Humphrey Bogart fall in love with Lauren Bacall on screen at the same time as the audience. Bucky could only hope that other people saw Darcy’s performance as Natalie the same way he did. The dailies were phenomenal. As the drama began to stack up in the script, Darcy was trying harder to keep things light in between takes. Not that the emotions weren’t genuine. Whenever she cried in front of him, Bucky felt his throat tighten and his lines would get jumbled easily. Many times he’d flub a line and Darcy would never lose her concentration. Bucky was a novice compared to her.

He felt like anyone could play Jack, though Strange wrote the character with Bucky in mind. Darcy as Natalie was distinct, and every time she hurt Bucky hurt along with her. They were getting down to the wire, the pointy end. The story was meant to be a tragedy and they were still shooting close to everything in chronological order. Bucky had anxiety about getting everything right, but he knew it had to be good fuel. Darcy kept watching behind the camera along with Strange, supporting him. She’d wrap her arms around him and whisper about how fucking proud she was of him and it would make Bucky’s heart soar with hope, before he remembered she was still pretending.

It was harder to know what was real and what was not. A lot of Bucky’s life was artificial. He didn’t really have any friends. There was a big difference between the people he knew around town and having real friendships. Darcy would occasionally say or so something that had him believing he wouldn’t mind running into her after they finished their movie. They’d probably work together again since this movie might catapult her into the mainstream.

She came by one night when he was coming out the door and her eyebrows rose at him and his car keys.

“Where you headed?” she asked, and he smiled at her.

She made it too damn easy to like her. He needed to remember she was an actor and they were very good at doing that, making themselves likeable. Bucky tended to have the opposite effect.

“Might go find some stars,” he said, because it was the first thing that came to mind. He couldn’t see the night sky so well where he lived. He should probably buy a house somewhere further out, or in the desert where the pollution was less noticeable.

“Like, sky ones? Or movie stars?” Darcy asked, hand on her hip.

“Both, I guess, if you come with me,” he said, and Darcy scoffed.

“You’re the movie star.”

“You’ll be a _huge star_ after Cannes,” Bucky retorted. “If I can help it.”

She followed him down to his car he’d parked in the street and slipped into the passenger’s side, smiling at him.

“If _you_ can help it?” she said. “Got more power than you let on, Buck?”

She always edged towards a flirty kind of rapport with him. It flowed between them but it never crossed into anything remotely sexual. Darcy would wink at him all the time at work and she did it now beside him in his car.

“What, I’m one of the lizard people?” he said.

“Can’t be too careful. You were in _Time Shell_ ,” she murmured.

He hadn’t actually said the name of the piece of shit movie he did out loud for months. He saw a poster for it recently with his Photoshopped face in the corner of it looking like a smoothed out version of himself. He had less pores in that poster than a Ken doll and it bothered him.

Darcy had never mentioned _Time Shell_ before. She must have seen it, and the idea of her seeing by far the worst performance of his career when he was trying to be at his best in the movie they were shooting together made his stomach twist with anxiety. She might turn around and suddenly see his old mistakes from the last movie while they worked together, picking apart his performance, finally seeing him as complete bullshit.

“You think _Time Shell_ was made by lizard people?” Bucky said, trying to keep his voice calm while he pretended to solely concentrate on driving.

“Doesn’t that studio’s parent company own like, fifty percent of all mass media?” Darcy replied. “I’d say that’s a very lizard-person characteristic.”

“Greed?” Bucky said, and he glanced at her. She nodded.

She wasn’t wrong. The studio used him across several franchises over the last eight or so years. He hardly ever had to audition for roles when they already had him on their books. He supposed it would have been better if he was in a Clint Barton situation with mouths to feed other than his own. Bucky had enviable job security and that was why someone like Darcy referred to herself as a freelancer. She had to find work. She had to try.

“True,” he said. “I hate that movie.”

It was the most he’d said about it ever. Not even Wanda who had been trying to negotiate him out of doing publicity for _Time Shell_ had heard about why he refused to do any.

Darcy made a face. “It’s not good.”

Bucky gave a short laugh, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

“You can do better than that,” he mumbled. He took a drag, giving her another glance.

“It’s shit,” she added, smiling.

“Atta girl,” he said, his voice like a rumble. In the corner of his eye he could have sworn her face changed but once he looked at her again she was smiling like before.

They drove back toward Darcy’s place in Los Feliz, and Bucky pulled up at the bottom of a long track and parked under a tree.

“I didn’t think you were that serious,” Darcy said, hopping out of the Buick and looking around. The place wasn’t well lit, which was ideal for stargazing. Chances were they’d still see no stars, but the moon was out.

“Yeah, it’s great,” Bucky said, blowing smoke into the night. “Fresh air.”

Darcy began to laugh at him until he threw down his cigarette and squashed it beneath his boot. He tilted his head toward the hill behind them.

“You comin’?” he asked.

He hoped she’d say yes. She looked at his car and gave a sigh.

“Okay,” she said finally, walking toward him and slipping past him to begin the steep climb. “But if we run into a coyote, I’m using you as a human shield.”

“You mean bait,” Bucky said. “You’d use me as bait while you make a run for it.”

The silence seemed to stretch out the moment between them, until a long howl could be heard in the distance. Darcy suddenly clutched Bucky’s hand with her eyes wide.

“What the fuck was that?” she hissed.

“It’s miles away, Darce. It’s fine,” Bucky said.

She didn’t let go of his hand and Bucky wasn’t about to pull away. He was almost certain they were safe, but Darcy was gripping him so hard out of fright that he was starting to believe her fear.

“Let’s go back,” he whispered, and Darcy began to giggle.

It bubbled up and then she couldn’t stop, still holding his hand. He pulled her closer, her face knocking into his chest and brushing the thin material of his shirt.

“What’s so funny?” he said. “You fuckin’ maniac.”

She kept on laughing and Bucky could see there were tears in her eyes as she was overpowered by glee. He smiled at her, his hands going to her hips to keep her upright. He steadied her as her laughter died down, and she wiped her eyes with her fingers and sighed.

Bucky needed to stop touching her. The moment had passed. He was scared that if he pulled back it would be making a big deal out of something, and he didn’t need that. But he needed to stop. He took his hands off her and cleared his throat, officially making it awkward.

“You want to come to my house?” Darcy asked, and Bucky felt his heart pick up speed.

Did she mean right now? Was it because he touched her too long?

“Okay,” he murmured.

“I mean next weekend,” she added. “I’m having an unofficial wrap party. Or, I just want friends over at my place.”

 _Friends_. He was her friend. He needed to get a fucking grip. He needed to act like a friend. He was an actor, it couldn’t be that hard. Darcy made it easy to get along with her.

“Okay,” he said again.

“Cool,” she said, crossing her arms. “Could we head back, though? I don’t like it out here.”

Where they were all alone, Bucky thought she implied. He should have seen that coming from a mile away. With other girls if he took them somewhere private they’d crawl into his lap. Darcy didn’t need to feel unsafe around him.

 _Be her fucking friend, you fucking idiot_ , Bucky scolded himself.

-

One of the last scenes they did together was an explicit sex scene. With some special tricks it was meant to look very real, and it featured Bucky’s face between Darcy’s legs.

Her full thighs were soft and he shaved beforehand so she didn’t get a rash. Darcy was quiet most of the morning that they shot the scene. Bucky wondered what motivated Strange to add the extra cunnilingus since it wasn’t in the original script.

It was probably something dumb like making him a likeable character, as if everything else he did wasn’t enough. Words and deeds weren’t enough until Jack was seen going down on his wife. Bucky knew it meant fuck all in real life.

He ate a lot of pussy. It didn’t make him a nice guy.

Darcy wore a prosthetic with a merkin to cover the top of it. The scene seemed out of order with the other parts of the story. The only context they were given by their director was that Jack was overcome with desire and wanted to pleasure his wife.

Bucky could relate to that sentiment to some extent but tried his best to not think of what Darcy actually looked like under the disguise. The scene began with him sitting her on the washing machine and taking off her underwear and pushing her skirt up enough to gain better access. Bucky knew Strange would have a trying time getting any of the scene in the final cut of the movie without it getting an NC-17 rating. Again, Bucky was aware of the hypocrisy. In _Time Shell_ he stabbed a guy in the eye with a dagger and ten year-old kids were watching it in IMAX with realistic blood spatters, screams of agony from the murder victim ringing out over the crowd.

“You okay?” Bucky asked Darcy as he knelt on the floor, his hand touching her bare leg briefly.

“Yeah,” Darcy breathed. “Just try not to be smothered by my thighs,” she muttered back.

He knew she was nervous but he wanted to argue with her about her thighs being just right because they were hers and she was gorgeous, but Strange called action and Bucky had to move with precision.

“What are you -?” Darcy asked, like she was supposed to.

Bucky’s hands went to her legs and slipped under her skirt to pull at her underwear and Darcy lifted her hips. Bucky tugged them down and Strange called cut.

“Slower, Buck,” he called.

Bucky shook his head but he knew he had to comply.

“Usually I just get to it as fast as possible,” he muttered under his breath.

He heard Darcy laugh softly at that and saw her cheeks were pink. He licked his lips and looked away from her, handing her back the underwear he’d tossed aside.

They reset the scene and the second time Bucky was slower, his eyes glued to Darcy’s as he pulled down the garment.

He threw one of her legs over his shoulder and mimed as best he could, moving his head up and down, though he knew he tended to do everything, every trick in the book in his own sex life.

Above his head Darcy’s breath hitched and she moaned. He refused to open his eyes while down there. He didn’t want to see that fake genitalia up close, and he figured it kept a better boundary between them as actors.

They did the scene once more and then Strange called for a break. Bucky glanced at Darcy, trying to read her.

“As fast as possible?” she murmured, and Bucky felt his stomach flip.

“Yeah,” he managed to reply.

Strange clapped him on the shoulder, and his hand was hot against Bucky. Their director had been unwell for the past few days and Bucky thought it might be stress related.

“You okay?” Bucky asked him, and Strange gave a dismissive scoff.

“I’m fine. Just hoping my migraine goes by tonight,” he replied.

Darcy and Bucky exchanged a look.

“Migraine?” Darcy repeated. “Stephen –”

“I’ll schedule a complete breakdown _after_ this week,” he went on. “But we’re so close.”

He still had a mammoth job ahead of him in post-production. It was possible he may have bitten off more than he could chew, but Strange had managed to write, direct and edit _Ache and Bone_ to perfection a few years ago so Bucky wasn’t about to doubt him.

“Okay,” Darcy said, sounding uneasy. “So it’s nearly over.”

It was like she’d only just realized it. She looked at the floor and Bucky had the urge to reach out and touch her but Strange beat her to it.

“You are phenomenal,” he said to her. Bucky hated that he hadn’t said that already because it was true. Without her he had no idea how good this movie would be, especially with the ending.

The next three days was dedicated to the final scene of the movie, which included a car chase. Darcy was the one driving with Bucky slumped against her, covered in blood.

They were speeding towards the edge of the town, but really they were out in a desert using the same strip of rough dirt road to simulate the chase. Strange was in the front of the vehicle recording Darcy desperately trying to get away with Bucky slipping in and out of consciousness.

Bucky had little dialogue to remember for that day. Darcy was crying hysterically, but trying not to, as Natalie was trying to comfort Jack while they sped away. It was a lot like _True Romance_ but a nightmare version. Their world had fractured apart.

The final shot was of Darcy’s face staring blankly ahead as they drove. It was one long zoom, the only sound being the car’s engine running. Bucky had to keep perfectly still as his head lay against her shoulder.

“Darcy, we’re done,” Strange said. He was quiet. Darcy took a deep breath, and the car slowed to a stop. Strange put his walkie-talkie to his mouth and murmured.

“That is a wrap. That is a wrap on _The Death of a Marriage_.”

Bucky sat up and felt Darcy’s hands on him, pulling him toward her. He buried his face in her neck, feeling his eyes prickle.

There was cheering around them of the rest of the crew, some from outside the car and others through the walkie-talkie Strange still held in his hand.

Bucky didn’t need to see if Darcy was crying. He could feel her shaking against him with her arms wrapped around him. They were both covered in the fake blood by the time he drew back, searching her eyes.

“We did it, baby,” she said, her face wet.

It hurt because she didn’t need to call him that anymore, not ever again if they never played another couple. He might never kiss her again.

He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. They sat like that for a while as everyone else hugged. Bucky only pulled away when he heard Linda’s voice.

“You might want to get unstuck sometime soon, you two.”

Bucky got out of the car and Strange came toward him with an outstretched hand.

“Outstanding,” he said, shaking Bucky’s hand. “You were fantastic.”

“You wrote it,” Bucky said. “It’s all you.”

“No, I just managed to catch what was happening with my cameras,” the director replied, his accent twisting back and forth. “I’m off to edit. You need a shower.”

Bucky looked down at himself and remembered the blood.

“Right,” he said.

They were back in their trailers unpeeling wet clothes and wiping off gunk. The fake blood had coagulated under Bucky’s nails, and he was sure to raise some eyebrows at Darcy’s party if he didn’t scrub properly. When he emerged from the shower squeaky clean he felt weird.

It was over. He knew it was over, and yet he could have sworn there was more to do, more to work on. He glanced around at the empty makeup trailer, remembering Darcy showered somewhere else and he wasn’t sure whether he should wait.

“You!” came a voice, and Bucky turned to see Linda approaching him with her eyes shining. “You just send me the biggest bouquet without telling me about it?”

She pulled him into a hug and Bucky swallowed hard.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he lied. He didn’t sign the card but she must have asked around. Many other people received the same anonymous gift from him.

She touched his face and smiled at him.

“You call me sometime, okay?” she said. “I didn’t want to bother you during the shoot but you always look so tired and I was worried.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Really. I’m just gonna miss you.”

“Well, then I hope you see me again sometime. And I hope you find that goddamn leather jacket.”

“Sure,” he said.

The mention of the missing jacket he knew was at the strip club downtown was a harsh reminder of his other existence. He didn’t want to remember that part of him so soon. He was still in this strange in between.

He left the set in a daze, not smoking at all until he pulled up at his condo as the sun was setting. He needed to change into something else for the party. There was no solace to be found when he was in private, alone once more. He knew other people craved it but he could only think about how different Jack’s own life was to his.

He understood now that he wanted that life because his own was empty.

He put on a dress shirt and hated it. He owned too much Gucci. Who kept buying him Gucci? Was someone sending him this shit? He grumbled as he pulled on his dark jeans and worn out brown boots with the cracked leather. He couldn’t style his hair, he just scrubbed at it with his fingers and sighed. He pulled on a clean white t-shirt and called it quits, leaving the house in a bad mood.

He was nervous as he approached Los Feliz. Darcy’s house was a small one with a Mexican flare to its design. It reminded Bucky of the house Marilyn Monroe died in, which he supposed was a sad thought but he trusted Darcy would not have the same fate.

He flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it, exhaling. From outside the front door he could hear the party inside.

He knew how he wanted this to go. Darcy would open the door and give him a kiss hello, and maybe for a bit longer she’d pretend to be Natalie and he’d go along with it whole-heartedly. She’d introduce him to some of her friends but she’d never leave his side. As the night would go on, he’d have little conversations with her with old jokes from the set, secret moments they remembered. She lean against him and laugh.

He pushed aside the fantasy. He knew what it grew to. Kisses, and her bedroom door being kicked shut behind them once the party was over and he’d stay behind.

He rang her doorbell and waited. Eventually, Darcy came into view with the music blasting from somewhere inside. It was some trashy 80s song Bucky recognized.

She lit up, and Bucky could see she was tipsy.

“Oh, you actually came!” she said, and then she looked down at what Bucky held in his hand.

He was holding another smaller bouquet and Darcy stared at it.

“Is that for me?”

He nodded like a dumbstruck child and Darcy took the flowers from him, pulling him through the doorway. She sniffed the flowers and smiled.

“Thank you.”

As Bucky looked around her living room he recognized no-one. He understood then that the event was open to Darcy’s friends and there was no official wrap party. What the night turned into was almost the opposite of what Bucky hoped for.

He kept drinking alone outside with a cigarette between his two fingers. Darcy would come over and check on him, but Bucky could hardly hold a conversation with anyone she managed to push him next to. All of them mentioned _Time Shell_ at least once, lying through their teeth.

He left her house, meaning to slip away without having to say goodbye but she caught him just in time, her hand on his Buick.

“You going already?”

He just nodded. He was tired. He’d go watch a movie and try to sleep. But then what? Do the same thing tomorrow and the next day, too?

Her face was unreadable as he peeled off into the night.

-

Hours later, his phone woke him from his spot on the couch. _Moonraker_ was playing on his TV screen and Bucky grunted, reaching for his phone on the coffee table.

“What?”

“You got a kink?” Strange rasped, and Bucky squinted at Roger Moore in front of him.

He knew this was probably another one of those weird conversations they’d never talk about, like the time when he asked him if he believed in God. The question must be coming from a mid-edit flurry of creative energy. Or maybe he was still sick.

“Yeah.”

“Well, what is it?” Strange prompted.

Bucky let out a sigh. “Intimacy.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Strange hissed on the other end. “That’s a fucking plot twist.”

Bucky chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “What about you?”

“That’s not integral to my vision,” the Brit retorted. Bucky just shook his head. How convenient.

Bucky didn’t like _Moonraker_. He didn’t remember putting it on. He could have at least picked Sean Connery over Moore. Or even Brosnan.

“You still got that migraine?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky blinked. “It’s been days. You should probably go to the hospital.”

Strange was exasperated. “I don’t need to go-”

“Let me take you to the hospital.”

Eventually, Bucky drove over to Strange’s bungalow and fed Zero, shoved Strange into the Buick and then dropped him off at the hospital.

“Take a break,” he said, and Strange relented, walking toward the emergency department while Bucky waited.

A nurse came up to him and Strange almost collapsed, making Bucky nearly jump out of his car.

His director threw him an annoyed glance over his shoulder.

Bucky tore off into the night.

He didn’t go home. He just kept driving.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched Moonraker the other day and I was not the biggest fan.
> 
> I've read probably 12 books on Marilyn Monroe. It's a problem. 
> 
> I'm deliberately not giving away the ending of the movie within this story until later chapters. This framed narrative thing will probably fry my brain.
> 
> The migraine thing is based on something a co-worker went through once. She had a migraine for three days straight and we said "goddamn it go to the hospital" and she had to have an I.V. (Stephen is fine.)
> 
> I made a playlist of all the songs featured in this fic which you can listen to [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170838034/playlist/4UJXVMguNebxtSWbJpgJmf?)  
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	7. Part Seven: I'm a fuck up

_But if the chance remained_  
_To see those better days_  
_I'd cut the cannons down_  
_My ears are blown to bits_  
_From all the rifle hits_  
_But I still crave that sound_

\- "Giving Up The Gun" by Vampire Weekend

 

 

**Part Seven: I'm a fuck up**

 

 

Bucky drove for close to four hours before he had to stop for gas. He was wide awake with the wind slapping his face, but even he had his limits.

He parked his Buick out the front of a motel that boasted free Wi-Fi and he pulled on his navy cap to keep himself less exposed. Thankfully the parking lot was close to empty and he slipped into the entrance where a middle-aged woman sat staring at her TV stuck on a wall.

She barely glanced at Bucky when he asked for a room, and he shelled out the cash, shoving another hundred or so dollars into the tip jar before taking a key.

He parked his car with the top finally back up and he let himself into his room, flipping on the light. The bed was old. The fixtures were all cracked. There was some mold in one corner of the ceiling and the tap in the bathroom was leaking.

He didn’t have any other clothes with him so he kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed. It was probably the worst place he’d stayed at in over a decade and it was comforting to know that. He took out his phone and saw a new message.

_I wish you stayed._

Darcy was probably drunk when she sent that. She was halfway there when he left her place. He checked the timestamp and saw she’d written it only ten minutes ago.

His fingers hovered over the keys. He was tempted to reply something witty, but what was the point? He didn’t know what use that would be to him when he wasn’t in L.A. anymore.

He put his phone down and rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

He drove. He got a coffee and a doughnut from a little truck stop on his way out from the motel. His server recognized him instantly, freezing up as he gave her a small smile. She seemed mortified, and he knew he wasn’t enjoying the situation much, either. If he wasn’t famous he’d be just any other customer and he wouldn’t have flustered her. Then the other server there took a photo of Bucky without asking and he sped off down the road without looking back.

He stopped to piss by the side of the road and felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

 _Hungover :(_ _So stupid. Can I come over and watch a dumb movie with you? Something super, super lame. Please?_

He ignored it, feeling his stomach flutter. She was hungover and she wanted to hang out with him but he wasn’t capable of even cheering her out of that situation. That’s what friends did. He wasn’t a friend. He didn’t feel like himself anyway, driving miles and miles. He liked pretending he didn’t exist. He wasn’t Jack the romantic husband or James Barnes the asshole movie star.

He drove with the top down again and felt his phone buzz again a few hours later. He pulled over when he decided he should find something else to wear. He still had the white shirt on from last night and he didn’t shower that morning.

He ducked into a convenience store and could only find a XXXL so it wasn’t the best fit but it was clean. He popped the label off it and changed on the side of the road. He finally looked at his phone again to see he’d missed Wanda calling him, as well as another text from Darcy.

_Your car’s not here. Bucky???_

More question marks to follow. Bucky deleted the message to tamper the rising guilt. She’d showed up at his house. Maybe ignoring her would make her stop doing that, and he’d finally have some peace.

God. She wasn’t annoying. It was all him. He just couldn’t take being Bucky around her when he was better as Jack. He liked that she showed up like she belonged there among his stupid shit in his stupid house.

He should probably tell her he was nearly through Utah, but telling her that was sure to worry her and that was the last thing he wanted. He thought about telling her he was busy with another girl but he wasn’t that callous, never with her. He hated that she probably got an Uber all the way to his house with no sign of life when she showed up.

Letting her down now was easier. Easier than later when she figured him out like Rachel did, or Samantha, or Sophie, or Delia... All of them, even the ones whose names escaped him. She was about to join a long list of disappointed women who deserved so much better than what he ever gave them.

He rubbed his eyes. He’d stop once he reached Colorado.

He woke in another hotel. This one had no mold but the TV didn’t work. His phone’s battery had to charge while he slept and he glanced at it, seeing a new message.

Wanda was asking about _Time Shell_ again. He shoved it away and ran his hands through his hair, sighing. He remembered taking that job because he thought it would be forgettable, something he’d pass the time with. He knew how bad it was once he read the script but he wasn’t able to back out. He knew he still owed the studio two other pictures, and he had no idea how he was meant to do that.

He should have already prepared for this months ago. He knew some guys who had the next five years of their lives mapped out. Bucky never did that until the studio snatched him up, and then it was suddenly a seven-picture deal. It was a wonder that they never made him sign anything in blood.

_I’ll call you about this in a couple days._

The second he sent it the grey bubble popped up indicating she was typing back, and then it stopped abruptly. Bucky waited, but she didn’t keep typing.

When he made it through to Indiana a couple days later Bucky still hadn’t replied to Darcy’s messages. He didn’t know where to start. He only decided where he was going by his third day of driving. He’d considered just driving until he got to Nevada but it was easier to keep going. He didn’t want this impulse decision to turn into a _Leaving Las Vegas_ type situation.

How was he meant to explain himself? All he’d done for days on end was drive, drinking crappy coffee and not shaving. His backseat was a mess of receipts and plastic bags from food and clothes purchases. He managed to find a Walmart and wore his hat and sunglasses inside when he grabbed several white shirts and some Little Debbie snacks.

Passing through Pennsylvania, he briefly considered finding Bryn Mawr but the idea of being close to Darcy without actually her being there felt like a creepy thing to do. He thought of her last text which simply read _Where’d you go baby?_ and his stomach churned.

He knew what he was doing was kind of bad but he was either doing this or sitting in his condo dulling himself with pills while sulking. If someone was to ask him why he did it this way, he didn’t know how to justify any of it because he seemed out of control.

He forgot what day it was. He forgot what day he started his journey. All he knew was that he hadn’t stopped for long each time he had to, and then he’d arrived in New York.

He knew if he was a decent son he would have called his mom first to make sure she knew where he was, to make sure she didn’t worry. She’d be over the moon if he said he was visiting. But he wasn’t that guy. He’d come to hide, so he went straight to Steve’s place first.

He drew up in front of Steve’s apartment building and looked around. Girls walking in pairs with their coffees. Kid on his skateboard that stopped and stared. Men in suits. There was life everywhere. It was baffling that life seemed to just go on no matter what.

He hadn’t been home in nearly two years. When he called Steve he was in the middle of eating his lunch, and Bucky could picture him at his desk doing so.

“What’s up?” he mumbled with his mouth full.

“I’m downstairs.”

“What?” Steve began to cough as if he’d accidentally inhaled something. Maybe a sesame seed. Steve usually ate two sandwiches for lunch and he liked grains. “You serious?”

Bucky looked up at Steve’s floor and a hand pushed aside the curtain and a man was staring down at him, eyes wide. He had a pair of glasses on and he whipped them off.

“I’ll come down.”

Bucky hung up, letting out a shaky breath. He and Steve were close as brothers but there was still the ever-present fear of rejection. Steve was the most authentic person he knew and he was always skeptical about the things Bucky told him about L.A. life.

Steve took barely more than a minute to come down stairs and open the front door. When he arrived, Bucky could see his hair was longer and he had a beard.

“You look like shit,” Steve said, and Bucky let out a short laugh.

“You, too,” he replied, but he was lying.

Steve pulled him into a hug and Bucky let him dictate it, only pulling away as Steve did. Everything felt so weird. Bucky was reminded of so many things his life wasn’t anymore when he thought of Steve, and being home brought it all to the front of his mind again.

He followed Steve inside, their footsteps echoing as they climbed the staircase. Bucky missed that sound and didn’t know it until just then. Maybe he should move into a studio apartment.

Steve’s place was the same as always. Paintings everywhere, none of them his own. Steve worked in graphic design and illustration and Bucky’s eyes traveled over to his desk in one corner that was covered in papers and inks. There were three different lights and a magnifying glass to see his work better, and Bucky saw his pair of glasses again resting next to an empty coffee mug.

“Since when do you need glasses?” he asked, and Steve glanced over at the spectacles and crossed his arms.

“I’m long-sighted,” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips.

“So… reading glasses?” Bucky said, eyebrows raised.

Steve didn’t need any more help looking like a massive dork. At least the glasses weren’t the hipster RayBan ones.

“Yeah, I mean…” Steve shrugged. “You’re thirty-two now, bud.”

Bucky grunted. He didn’t need a reminder. His dad had him when he was thirty-two and he wasn’t a mature adult by any stretch of the imagination.

“You drove here?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, attempting a shrug.

“From… California?”

“ _Yeah,”_ Bucky said a little sharper. He crossed his own arms, looking down at his boots and sighing. “I just finished the movie and I wanted a break.”

“Right, ‘cause taking a plane to New York is harder,” Steve said, making Bucky glance up at him.

He made a fair point but Bucky hadn’t looked forward to this brotherly concern Steve always had, and he didn’t come all this way to be interrogated but maybe he just had to pay that price for some peace.

“I don’t like airports. Flying is easier, but I don’t like the whole… airport thing,” Bucky muttered. “The cameras, and people askin’ for photos and shit.”

“Okay,” Steve replied. Bucky was surprised he hadn’t mentioned a private jet, which he could definitely afford, he just didn’t like them. It felt gross to do shit like that.

“No-one knows I'm here,” he said. “Just you.”

“Buck,” Steve began, but Bucky cut him off.

“I was going nuts. And that shit getting out is bad, so I had to leave.” Bucky bit his lip. “It… got weird.”

He couldn’t admit to the pills. Steve would blow his stack and tell his mom, and he wasn’t going to some rehab center in Reno. He hadn’t had a pill or any alcohol in days and he didn’t crave it.

“Weird like sad?” Steve said.

Bucky nodded. It must be like trying to communicate with a child. It made sense. Bucky was a thirty-two year-old boy.

“You have been depressed,” Steve added. Bucky made a face at that.

“I’m not _depressed_.”

“Okay,” Steve said again. “How long you stayin’?”

Bucky shrugged. “I haven’t got plans.”

“You wanna call your mom?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “Fuckin’ punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve replied, turning away to walk back to his lunch on the kitchen counter.

-

The visit with his mom was awkward. Bucky knew it was his fault. He didn’t have excuses as to why he hadn’t visited her in so long. He didn’t know how to explain why he chose to drive all the way to New York instead of flying. Steve didn’t mention the epic car trip so neither did Bucky.

Once they left his mom, Steve tugged him by the elbow down the street in the other direction.

“You wanna get dinner?” Steve asked, and Bucky felt his stomach tense.

He didn’t want people seeing him. He was enjoying pretending he hadn’t gone to L.A. all those years ago.

“I dunno,” Bucky said. He didn’t know how to ask if they could head back because he was anxious.

“Come on,” Steve said. “Just one drink?”

Bucky felt Steve’s gaze soften as he waited, recognizing his distress.

“We’ll get takeout.”

-

The days blended. Steve worked during the day while Bucky watched TV or read in the spare bedroom. At night Steve would get them something to eat or make something. Bucky did the dishes but kept to himself for the most part.

On Bucky’s fifth night there, Steve stuck his head into the spare room to check on him. He wore a flannel shirt and smelt like some fresh cologne and leather.

“Going to an opening,” Steve said. “You want to come?”

“Why?” Bucky grunted, sullen. Steve’s face fell.

“I dunno,” he replied. “I thought I’d try.”

“No, thanks,” Bucky muttered. He glanced back at his book. “But have fun.”

Steve faltered, hand still on the doorknob.

“I’m fine, punk,” Bucky added. He looked up and tried to smile. “Enjoy yourself.”

“Okay,” Steve said.

He sounded tired of him and Bucky didn’t blame him. He’d gone past toddler into teenager mode, brooding in his little nest at the back of the apartment. At least he wasn’t smoking in bed.

Once he heard the front door close Bucky lay his book down, sighing. He checked his phone, seeing Wanda left him a Voicemail. His correspondence with her was sporadic at best. Maybe he should do something for her, something useful.

-

He was on the cover of _Variety_ talking about _The Death of a Marriage_. The interview itself was hardly invasive, just a puff piece that meant Wanda wasn’t going to tear her own hair out.

Bucky might get sent a script. He gave her Steve’s address but knew he had no desire to return to California. Maybe he’d spend the rest of the year there. He could see the snow for once.

They took two photos of him to use for the magazine – both in black and white with his new facial hair and rumpled sweater with its sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His hair was a mess but he smiled because the photographer made him laugh. He didn’t know what about, until the Internet shitstorm that followed after it.

He was recorded badmouthing _Time Shell_. Bucky blamed his lack of sleep and yo-yoing mood on such a stupid choice. If _only_ he had pills to blame for that. Usually an actor had something to fall back on but Bucky said out loud “ _Time Shell_ should never have happened. We should have burned that one”.

The interviewer recorded him saying it on his phone. It wasn’t a misquote, there was no context that had to be explained, especially when Bucky added: “It’s not surprising considering what else has come out of that studio”.

Bucky went underground after the interview was released. He scrolled through endless gossip sites repeating his words. He only answered Wanda’s call because Steve was her friend.

“I don’t know where to start,” she said, as Bucky covered his eyes with a hand, laying on his bed.

“I don’t know, either,” Bucky muttered. “You should drop me.”

“I should. I really should, because I can’t understand it,” she said. She let out a sigh and Bucky blinked at the ceiling.

“I’m not sorry I said it.”

She probably expected him to apologize to her. She sounded exasperated.

“This isn’t about them insulting your artistry by making a shitty movie,” she snapped. “You signed a contract and were legally obligated to promote the movie _they paid you to do_. You’re now exposed to a lawsuit because of you saying all this. You knew what you said was being recorded –”

“I didn’t plan for some fuckin’ fire for you or anyone else to put out,” Bucky retorted. “I felt suffocated. Constantly preening for their fuckin’ bullshit stories with zero worth –”

“You signed up for it! No-one made you. And thirty other guys wanted your job, that I know,” Wanda said. “You’ll be lucky to get a fucking Coke commercial now. You’re done.”

“You shouldn’t be in this business,” Bucky said, his voice rising.

“Neither should you, then! But you are. And you _hired_ me.”

There was a pause and Wanda sighed again.

“You remind me so much of my brother.”

Bucky blinked. “I didn’t know you have a brother.”

“He’s dead,” she said, which made Bucky’s heart sink.

He reminded his agent of past traumas. He really was a catch. There was silence from her end.

“I’m a fuck up,” he blurted. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay you out for the rest of the year. But you’ve done all you can.”

“Bucky –”

He hung up on her, getting off his bed and walking out with a cigarette between his fingers. He smoked on Steve’s balcony, watching the people go by.

He rested his head against the wall of the building and sighed.

-

Two days later, a Sunday, Steve ducked his head into Bucky’s room.

They hadn’t spoken about the _Variety_ interview. In fact, Steve had been unusually quiet about his concern for Bucky. Maybe he’d reached his threshold and soon he’d be asking Bucky to leave, or at least pay rent.

“I’m going to the gym,” he said, and Bucky looked up from his book.

“Sure.”

“I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Bucky nodded, wanting to end the conversation as soon as possible. He’d read the same sentence four times now while he waited for Steve to leave.

Steve just tapped the door frame once and departed. The apartment was always so quiet without him and Bucky hated that he missed him that badly, even when he just left to live a fraction of his life somewhere else. He hated how pathetic he’d become. His quiet neediness was all he had.

He put down his book and considered getting up, but the kitchen felt so far away and by the time he got there he usually didn’t want anything.

He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to move.

There was a distant knocking and Bucky’s eyes snapped open. He decided to ignore it. If it was one of Steve’s neighbors Bucky didn’t want it to get out that he was staying in Brooklyn. If it was Steve he’d probably forgotten his keys.

Bucky waited, but there was no voice to accompany the sound. The threw his legs over to climb out of bed, walking down the hallway and into the main area.

The knocking started up again and Bucky looked around, wondering what to do. He grabbed a cardigan Steve left over the back of a chair and threw it over his bare chest. He reluctantly went toward the door, hoping it was some old woman without a television that might not know his face.

He pulled the door open and froze.

Darcy was standing there waiting for him, her hand still raised to knock the door yet again. She pulled it down to her side. She didn’t smile at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Bucky replied.

Steve had to have something to do with this. It reeked of him, Darcy just showing up like this. No wonder he didn’t press him about joining him in a workout. He planned on Bucky being here so Darcy could catch him.

“You gonna let me in?” she said finally, and Bucky remembered he was staring at her.

She looked good. She wore a beanie that she tugged off as he let her pass. He kicked the door shut and saw her looking around, inspecting.

“When did you get in?” Bucky asked.

“Just now.”

She didn’t carry anything but her handbags. Bucky didn’t know what that meant. Was she planning on leaving as soon as possible? Did she jump on a plane without thinking too much about it?

“How long you been here?” she asked, and Bucky looked away.

“Two weeks.”

“Steve said you drove here,” Darcy added, and Bucky felt his stomach twist.

The whole thing made him seem like some over-dramatic loser with no impulse control. She was the last person he wanted to see. He didn’t know what to do with himself, he just couldn’t look at her anymore, couldn’t take her eyes staring back at him.

“Yeah.”

“You ghosted me.”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

She seemed pissed off. It made sense. She suddenly moved toward the kitchen area, looking through the refrigerator. She took out the carton of eggs and looked around the cabinets for a fry pan.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked.

“What does it look like?” she snapped. She threw him a sharp look over her shoulder. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Oh _, shut up_ ,” she snapped. “Sit down.”

She set to work and Bucky did as he was told, sitting at the kitchen bench on one of the stools as he watched her. Before he could ask her any questions she began to speak again.

“After the _Variety_ thing I called Wanda, and then she passed my number on Steve. I knew if you knew I was coming you’d most likely make a run for it.”

She fried two eggs and grabbed the loaf of bread from the counter and made toast. When she placed the toast and fried egg on a plate and put it in front of Bucky, he stared at it.

She sat down beside him and fiddled with her fork, waiting for him to start.

“You know, you should really eat that,” she said.

“Why’d you come here?” Bucky asked.

Darcy blinked. “I should have known something was off.”

Bucky shook his head. “I never told you.”

“I don’t have to be told to know you weren’t feeling so good,” she retorted. She stabbed her fried egg and the yolk spilled over. “I should have followed you when you left my party.”

“You tried,” Bucky murmured. His eyes met hers.

“I didn’t try hard enough.”

“That’s not…” Bucky swallowed. “Don’t do that. It’s not your fault I ran away. It’s not your job to look after me. It shouldn’t be.”

Neither of them touched their food and Darcy put her cutlery down, taking Bucky’s hand in hers and squeezing.

“What about all those times you’ve been there for me?” she whispered.

Bucky shook his head. “That’s not the same.”

“What, you’re about to tell me that wasn’t real?”

Bucky bit his lip. “No. I just – I’m a mess. Just a dumb fucking mess and it’s not something you want to worry about.”

“Too fuckin’ late,” Darcy snapped.

Bucky clamped his mouth shut, nodding.

She began to eat and Bucky copied her. They ate in silence and when Bucky took her plate away and put it in the sink he ran some hot water to clean up. He heard Darcy’s stool scrape loudly against the floor.

He felt hands on his stomach and he almost dropped one of the plates he was putting in the drying rack. Darcy’s fingers ran under the cardigan along his bare skin, and Bucky felt it like an electric shock to his cock.

She pressed her chest against his back and wrapped her arms around him. He moved back from the sink and closed his eyes. There was a neediness to her touch and it broke his heart, because he wasn’t going to make her happy. He just couldn’t.

He carefully took her by the wrists and unfurled her arms, pushing them down to her sides. He went back to the dishes, scrubbing at them at putting them aside to dry.

“I was so worried about you. When I called Steve, he said he was worried about you, too.”

She sounded choked up and Bucky let out a shaky breath, wishing his heart would stop hammering so much. He needed her to leave. He was seconds away from making a massive mistake.

“Darcy.”

He turned around and saw she was crying.

“I’m not pretending,” she whispered. Her voice was hardly a whisper. “I should have told you on our last day on set.”

“Told me what?” Bucky asked. He couldn’t help himself.

Darcy blinked, more tears falling. She took a long sniff, chuckling without mirth.

“That I miss you when you’re not around. I miss you all the time.”

He felt hot all over. He turned to toss the scrubbing brush in the sink and took one step to pull her flush against him, his hands on her hips.

He tilted his head to brush his nose against hers. Neither of them dared shut their eyes. Bucky didn’t want to miss a second. He could smell her shampoo and whatever she scrubbed her face with. She smelt of apples and musk.

He opened his mouth slightly and Darcy copied. The tips of their tongues met and Darcy gasped, her breath hot against Bucky’s lips. Her hands were against the skin of his bare chest, gliding up and down. They finally kissed and Bucky closed his eyes. Darcy whimpered as his tongue pushed into her mouth, a sign of his undeniable hunger for her. There was no-one to watch them, no-one standing by to tell them to stop.

They rode the wave together, Darcy’s hands gliding up to reach his hair and tug at him. He pushed a leg between Darcy’s thighs and she gripped him harder.

“I’m not pretending. I wasn’t pretending at the grocery store.”

He realized then that the kiss he had with her when they did their little acting exercise was real. It was the one that made him freeze up. Then, he’d tried his hardest to not be aroused but he didn’t have to now. He could feel he was hard in his sweatpants.

Darcy drew back. “Did you hear what I said?”

Bucky let go of hips and her face fell. He then knelt on the floor and Darcy’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, I heard you, baby,” he murmured. His hands went to the button on the front of her jeans and he popped it open. He pulled down her fly, aware her eyes would never leave him. His hands slipped around to the sides of her jeans and he pulled, tugging them down to her knees.

Darcy helped him, managing to kick off one of the legs and then the other. Her panties were polka-dotted and Darcy’s cheeks were flushed with her eyes still wide.

He meant it the first day of the shoot and he meant it now, too. She was gorgeous. Her big blue eyes, the way her skin glowed. He ran his hands along her legs and she shivered, biting her plump lower lip.

Her pulled down her underwear and saw a neat triangle of dark hair on her mound and he sucked in a breath. He could smell her scent. He could see her pink little pussy peeking out and he licked his lips.

“Don’t do that,” she groaned.

Shit. He’d taken it too far. He was about to get up when Darcy added:

“I’ll come too fast if you stare at me like that.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her thigh. He stood, scooping Darcy up to place her on the counter and he knelt down again so he was eye-level with her crotch.

“You want to draw this out as long as possible?” he asked, and Darcy whimpered as he pushed her legs further apart.

“Fuck. I can’t think with you down there.”

He hadn’t even touched her yet and she looked wet down there. She was glistening, just from a few kisses. It wasn’t meant to be this good so fast. She was so responsive, her back arching as his fingers glided up to meet the apex of her thighs.

It was like a dream. Some fantasy his mind concocted and he’d be waking up alone in his bed any second now. His fingers ghosted over her slit and Bucky swallowed. She was warm and silky. He leaned forward and licked his lips again, waiting.

“Bucky,” she murmured. Her hand gripped his shoulder.

This had to be real. He’d die if it wasn’t.

He put his open mouth on her pussy, and he closed his eyes and breathed her in. His tongue darted out to taste her, and she was there, she was inside his mouth and he _knew her_ then.

“Fuck,” he groaned, not bothering to try and contain himself. He put a hand up to grab at her, giving her ass a squeeze while his other hand gripped her knee.

She made a high exhale as he tongued at her. He pulled back for a second to see a wet drip of her come out and he went for it again, this time his two fingers pushed inside her as he licked up one side of her clit and down the other.

She’s tight and wet around his fingers. He sunk into her and was wrapped like a glove and he groaned once more. Above him, Darcy’s breath was getting heavier, her thighs starting to shake. His cock was aching in his pants now. He kept going, working his tongue against her clit as his fingers began to pump slowly. Her muscles contracted and Bucky could tell she was close.

“I-I-I…”

She couldn’t quite say it but Bucky didn’t let up, feeling her pulse around his fingers, her whole body seizing up above him. His chin was wet, from her and from his spit and he loved it, knowing he got her there. He pulled back, wiping his mouth with his hand as Darcy panted.

He stood up, his hips meeting her thighs and she drew him into another kiss, more languid than the others. The silence between them was strange. Bucky watched as Darcy slowed her breathing, her eyelids heavy.

“You tired?” he murmured, and she nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

She probably didn't sleep much on the flight over. He crashed back to Earth the second she hopped off the counter, pulling her jeans back on. Suddenly separated he felt scared.

He didn’t know how to tell her he needed her. Instead, he tugged her toward the couch and she rested her head against his shoulder.

“You sure you don’t want me to -?”

“It’s fine,” he murmured into her hair, kissing her.

She went quiet again and he knew she’d fallen asleep.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, shit.
> 
>  
> 
> [Bucky for (almost) this entire part](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nVSRsvlKkvQ)
> 
>  I would have confused the hell out of whoever's watching my web searches rn because I looked on Google Maps "Los Angeles to Brooklyn" and then "chris evans beard photoshoot glasses" on the same day. (Steve looks like [this](https://hips.hearstapps.com/esq.h-cdn.co/assets/17/11/esq040117chrisevans005.jpg))
> 
> [The Death of a Marriage Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170838034/playlist/4UJXVMguNebxtSWbJpgJmf?)  
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	8. Part Eight: Quit teasing me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (NSFW! Read this away from prying eyes.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Tryna open up a little more_  
_Sorry if my heart a little slow  
__I thought that I didn't care  
__I thought I was love-impaired  
__But baby, baby  
__I don’t know what I'm gonna do_

\- "Cuz I Love You" by Lizzo

 

 

**Part Eight: Quit teasing me**

 

 

 

 

When Bucky woke alone he thought he dreamt Darcy’s visit until he took in his surroundings to see her handbag by the couch he sat on.

He could hear the water running in the bathroom. She was showering. He still smelt her on his face, still could taste her a little, the vaguely salty musk of her.

He couldn’t remember falling asleep but he must have. He rubbed his eyes and got up, going back to the kitchen to wipe down the bench he sat Darcy on before. He kept himself occupied as Darcy showered but the unbridled joy he felt before as he made her come was now completely eclipsed by a rising anxiety.

Should he have done that? Probably not. He didn’t regret it, but he should have turned her away instead of eating her out. What was he meant to do now? He bit his lip, tasting her again. He closed his eyes, trying to control his desire but his cock stirred back to life in his sweatpants.

There was a rattling of keys and Steve unlocked the front door, looking around the apartment before his eyes traveled to Bucky standing in the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said, and Bucky grit his teeth.

“Hey.”

“She here?” Steve asked, and Bucky could see he heard the shower still running.

What the hell was she even doing in there? She was probably using up all the hot water. Bucky tried not to scowl in Steve’s general direction.

“Who?”

The water suddenly shut off and Bucky held Steve’s gaze.

“Jesus, are you seriously upset?” Steve muttered, and Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly. “She wanted to visit. Thought you’d be happy to see her.”

“Not like this,” Bucky murmured. He was keeping his voice low. “She doesn’t deserve this bullsh-”

Steve put down his gym bag with a loud thud on the floor and Bucky shut his mouth. He had reached the point in his day where he was sick of the sound of his own voice.

“I was gone a while, you guys work it out?”

Bucky turned his head slightly toward the general direction of the bathroom and heard Darcy run the faucet in the sink.

“We’re not together,” Bucky murmured.

“But she sounded invested. Did you you guys -?”

Steve was unbelievable. Bucky had not missed his meddling. Two years ago he tried to set him up with a friend he knew through work and Bucky only went along with it for a couple days because Steve was pushing and pushing him.

Bucky shook his head at Steve in mild disbelief. “We kissed.”

“Nothing else?”

They were whispering now. Bucky was thankful of that.

“I went down on her.”

“But -?”

The rest of Steve’s prying question was cut off by Darcy wrenching the bathroom door open, a cloud of steam emitting as she emerged. She wore one of Bucky’s white t-shirts and her jeans. She looked fresher, better than before. Well-rested and no longer close to tears. Bucky’s stomach flipped and his affection must have shown on his face because Darcy smiled at him.

She spotted Steve and came toward him.

“Hi, Steve,” she said, and she hugged him with her smile broadening.

She was acting like she knew him very well and that bothered Bucky, and he wondered why. He wasn’t jealous as much as afraid. He had no idea how much either of them spoke about him.

Bucky decided to take a shower and walked off into the bathroom, leaving the pair to talk. He didn’t want to encourage their conspiracy but he needed to wash up. He scrubbed himself all over, his stomach still twisting with anxiety as he dried off.

He got rid of his beard and hairs covered the majority of the sink by the time he was done. Without the water running he could hear the vague murmurs coming from beyond the bathroom and cracked the door open slightly, wondering if might be able to eavesdrop.

“He’s always been kind of closed off.”

“Does it have something to do with his parents?”

“I guess. His dad…”

Bucky cleared his throat, making himself obvious as he came out of the bathroom, fishing out his pack of cigarettes from his jacket slung over the couch.

“Hey, bud,” Steve said, smiling. “I thought we could go see your mom.”

“What, now?” Bucky said, his unlit cigarette dangling.

“Yeah.”

Darcy was sitting beside Steve, her smile fading as Bucky frowned at his best friend.

Steve knew what it meant if Darcy met his mom. No girl ever met his family.

“Then maybe we could go get dinner? I was going to meet with friends later…”

Bucky tried his hardest not to snap or roll his eyes. Steve was using Darcy as an excuse to make Bucky socialize. Steve didn’t know that he tended to be grumpy and anti-social always, never mind if a girl was with them.

Darcy was special. She just was, but Bucky still had limits. He didn’t want unnecessary attention. He didn’t want to meet Steve’s friends.

Darcy blinked up at him hopefully. Bucky caught her eye and swallowed. He already ghosted her. Acting like himself with his stubborn sullenness tended to kick start the inevitable disappointment of dating him. He couldn’t do that just yet. She’d come all this way for Steve.

“Okay,” Bucky murmured. Darcy smiled.

“That’s great,” Steve said. He didn’t add anything else.

They walked over to his mom’s apartment, Steve ahead of them while Bucky and Darcy lagged behind.

Bucky chain smoked until Darcy took his hand in hers and smiled up at him. He flicked his cigarette butt into a trashcan and blew the remaining smoke away from her. He knew he was holding back. If it was just them in Brooklyn he’d be kissing her, telling her how good she tasted when he sat her on the kitchen counter and how much he wanted to do it again.

Steve turned his head slightly to check on Bucky and he smirked at their joined hands. Bucky clenched his jaw before Darcy began to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered. “Laugh it up.”

She did, and Steve joined her. Bucky felt his lips quirk but then they reached the apartment building and he felt his jaw set.

When he knocked on his mom’s door it took less than a minute for her to answer it. She stared up at him, eyes widening.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said. She saw Darcy behind him and her eyes went wider. “Uh, _hi._ Who are you?”

“Ma, this is Darcy,” Bucky said, stepping aside for Darcy to come forward.

Darcy and his mom were around the same height but his mom was in her heels, a good inch or so taller than her where she stood. She looked Darcy up and down.

“My goodness. She is adorable,” she said, and Darcy smiled.

“Thank you, Mrs. Barnes.”

His mom glanced at Bucky and then back at Darcy. “I’m Judie.”

“Judie,” Darcy said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

His mom pulled her inside and Bucky and Steve followed, exchanging a glance. His mom was about to talk Darcy’s ear off but Bucky knew that her mom Betty was a lot like his own so she should be able to hold her own.

“How you doin’, sweetheart?” his mom said to Steve, who smiled back at her.

“I’m good,” he replied.

They sat in the living room, Darcy and Judie sharing the couch as Bucky and Steve sat opposite them in separate armchairs. Bucky began to jiggle his knee and saw Steve notice.

He wanted a cigarette but knew it would cause a commotion.

“I’ve seen you in something, right?” Judie asked Darcy. She handed her a black coffee and Darcy murmured her thanks. “A show?”

Darcy’s eyebrows hiked. “I haven’t done TV in a while.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Judie said, putting up her hand. Her eyes went wide again. “That Civil War one. You died in it.”

“Oh!” Darcy said. She looked down at her coffee mug. “Yeah, that was a long time ago.”

Bucky had no idea what she was talking about.

“James,” Judie said sharply.

He looked up at her, wondering what he did wrong. “What, Ma?”

“You call your agent back yet?”

Bucky shot Steve a look. He was currently occupied with his coffee mug.

“Yeah. I told her to drop me,” Bucky said, his eyes still on Steve.

“What? Why?” his mom squawked.

“Bucky,” Darcy murmured.

He turned his head back at the women, their faces etched with concern. It made him feel a little sick.

“I told her I’d pay her out for the rest of the year.”

“It’s only April,” Judie said. “You want to be unemployed for the rest of the year? I mean, not that you couldn’t afford it –”

“Ma,” Bucky warned.

Darcy’s eyes darted from his mother to Bucky and back again.

“You made 22 million dollars last year, according to that _Forbes_ article I found,” Judie added.

“Goddamn it, Ma,” Bucky muttered, glancing up at the ceiling. He hated that Darcy knew that now. He’d been living in denial about her knowing how much money he made. Having it said out loud meant he couldn’t pretend he was like her, an artist instead of an overpaid studio goon.

“Why’d you fire Wanda?” Steve asked, and Bucky closed his eyes. He’d forgot for a second that Steve was her friend.

“It just wasn’t working out,” he said, and Steve let out a short breath of exasperation.

“Did she get you _Time Shell_?” Judie asked. She had no idea that Wanda was new. She knew next to nothing about the ins and outs of his L.A. life. 

“She got him the movie we did together,” Darcy answered.

Bucky glanced at her and saw she didn’t look happy anymore. He wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

“Is it any good?” Judie asked, and Darcy looked at her, her smile fake.

“It’s brilliant. Bucky’s great in it.”

“Well, that’s good,” his mom said, and Steve crossed his arms.

“No-one will see it,” Bucky added. He looked at the floor.

“Wanda said you’d take it to Cannes,” Steve threw back. He sounded annoyed, but like he was holding something back, the same as Darcy.

His friends were sick of him. It was only a matter of time before Darcy lost all patience and left New York. Bucky couldn’t picture doing press with her without seeming moody and wrong.

“Maybe I won’t go,” Bucky muttered.

Steve’s jaw ticked. Judie ignored his comment, turning back to Darcy.

“Did you know you’re the first girl he’s brought here?”

Darcy blinked at her, surprised. “Oh.”

Her whole demeanour changed, and by the time they left she was worrying her lip between her teeth and frowning. Steve turned to Bucky the second they were in the street, arms crossed once more.

“Wanda didn’t tell me you fired her,” he said.

“I figured,” Bucky muttered. “I thought it was the best choice.”

“So you’re quitting?” Steve said. “Just like that?”

Bucky shrugged. “I dunno.”

Steve sighed. He glanced at Darcy. “At least you’re here. Maybe you can kick his ass into gear.”

“I’ll try,” Darcy murmured. “Can we go?”

She walked off before either of them answered her.

-

With great reluctance, Bucky decided to stay out and try meeting Steve’s friends.

They turned up at a karaoke bar and Steve was greeted by about a dozen strangers. Bucky lagged behind as Steve made the rounds greeting everyone. He could feel the eyes of everyone else on him.

Darcy grabbed at his wrist before he could turn away, forcing him to move along with her.

“Bucky, Darcy,” Steve said, pausing at one black guy who looked at Darcy longer than Bucky liked. “This is my buddy Sam.”

“Sam, hi,” Darcy said, taking his hand to shake it, leaving Bucky alone.

“Hey,” Sam said to her. He took Bucky’s hand and shook it before he could refuse. “I saw _Time Shell_. You were right about it.”

“Thanks,” Bucky grunted. He looked at Darcy. “You want a drink?”

She looked puzzled for a second but then morphed back to her friendly smile. “Uh, sure.”

Bucky left her for the bar, feeling more strangers staring. He wished he had his hat. He missed his facial hair. He could have grown a beard for a better disguise. He ordered two beers and a shot of Jack which he threw back before leaving with the drinks.

Sam made Darcy laugh and she touched his arm. Bucky felt like an animal, restless and strange. He knew being territorial was just juvenile but he couldn’t help it. Sam was handsome and Darcy was responding to him well.

When he joined them, Steve was elsewhere talking to a group of female friends. He seemed entirely in his element, which surprised Bucky. Last time he was in New York Steve was still a little shy around women. He supposed them being his friends helped diffuse that.

Bucky stood by as Darcy and Sam chatted, drinking his beer in silence.

“How did you meet Steve?” she asked, and Sam glanced over at his friend.

“He was promoting art therapy for veterans.”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose. Bucky knew his best friend was impressive, but he had no idea he did something for the community. He took a sip of his drink again and swallowed.

He should know these things. He was too wrapped up in his own bullshit to take any notice. Steve probably mentioned Sam more than once and he didn’t remember any of it.

He wanted a cigarette and took off, leaving Darcy with Sam. Once he got outside he lit up, taking a low drag. The front door of the bar banged open and Darcy walked up to him.

“Did I do something wrong?” she demanded.

Bucky exhaled. “No.”

“You’re lying.” She bit her lip. “I can tell when you’re lying.”

“You did nothing wrong,” he said. “It’s all me.”

She groaned. “Is it because I spoke to Sam for too long?”

“I’m not jealous,” Bucky snapped. He flicked some ash on the pavement. “But he would be a better person to hang out with than me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m like _this_ , okay? Like, eighty percent of the time I’m an asshole.”

Darcy’s brow furrowed. “No, I don’t believe that.”

 He took a drag from his cigarette and stared her down with little success. She only looked beautiful and defiant, crossing her arms over her chest. She was still wearing his shirt which was way too big for her but she was somehow making it work.

She put her hands on her hips. “You’d rather I’d be with Sam after what happened this afternoon?”

Bucky’s stomach flipped. “It’d be a better choice.”

“I’m not interested in him,” she retorted. “I like you.”

Bucky’s eyes darted to the bar’s windows. He could see Sam laughing with Steve.

Darcy moved closer, her hands reaching for him, touching his face.

“I like you,” she whispered. “And you like me.”

“Yeah,” he replied. His heart was hammering. He felt the same panic from before.

“Is that why you’re scared?” she asked, and she gave him a brief kiss on the lips without closing her eyes. “’Cause I didn’t think I was that scary.”

“That’s not –” Bucky swallowed. “I know how this ends.”

She drew back. “I don’t think so.”

She lowered her hands, stepping backwards toward the bar. Bucky watched her go.

The truth was she threw everything out the window. She made him unsure. All he knew was how he felt about her. He’d never cared about any other girl, and it was a shame.

He couldn’t get ahead of himself. If he let it happen too much he’d be dreaming of what they could be. Going down on her was a mistake because it only got his hopes up.

He finished his cigarette and went back inside. There was a drunk woman onstage and he sat beside Darcy at the big table their party sat around. Her hand settled on his thigh and he didn’t push her away. They all watched the drunk woman’s tragic singing and by the third song she was being dragged off by one of her friends. Some of Steve’s friends went up together to sing _Eye of the Tiger_ , Sam included.

Bucky pulled Darcy toward him until she leaned her back against him, his face close to her neck as they watched. Occasionally Steve would glance their way and Bucky would shoot him a dirty look unbeknownst to Darcy.

At one point she turned her head and caught him in a kiss, making his stomach flutter and warmth pool in his gut.

He and Darcy didn’t sing once and Steve claimed to be tone-deaf. Sam sang a lot of backup vocals and Bucky found himself liking the guy a little, not that he’d ever admit it.

On their way back to Steve’s apartment Darcy held his hand, tugging him along. She smiled up at him and then Steve.

“I think I’ll go home tomorrow.”

Bucky thought his stomach might drop out at the thought of her leaving so soon.

“What?”

“I meant Bryn Mawr,” she clarified. “And then we’d drive the rest of the way back.”

Steve exchanged a look with Bucky.

“You can stay as long as you want,” Steve said to Darcy.

“You’re a great host but I’ll have auditions coming up,” she replied. She glanced at Bucky. “Life goes on.”

“Sure,” Steve said.

They arrived at his place and Steve made himself scarce, using the bathroom before going to bed, leaving Darcy and Bucky to it.

They lingered on the couch.

“You want me to drive you back to California,” Bucky murmured.

She leaned forward, her hand brushing his face. “After you meet my family, yeah.”

Bucky swallowed.

“If I asked you to try,” Darcy began. “Would you?”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

“Baby, could you try?” she whispered.

He nodded, feeling his guts twist despite the way she was looking at him. She was fond, so consumed by it that she leaned forward to kiss him.

She grew demanding, climbing over to settle in his lap. It was like one of their scenes in the movie, except they weren’t faking any kind of arousal. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and he grunted, feeling that he was hard against her crotch.

“I want you,” she whispered. “I want you.”

He thought of Steve being close by and faltered, his hands catching hers when she tried to reach the fly of his jeans.

“I just want to touch you,” she breathed. “Please?”

If he wasn’t hard already that would have done it, her sweet pleading against his mouth, her warm body rocking against his.

“I can’t,” he whispered back.

She pouted, actually pouted at him for that.

“I’ll put you to bed and I’ll sleep out here, okay?” he murmured, and she pulled him into another kiss, ending it with his lower lip between her teeth.

“Fuck, Darce,” he grunted, his hips bucking of their own accord.

She smiled at that. “Exactly. _Fuck Darce_.”

“No,” he retorted, his voice still hushed.

She sighed, moving off him. Without warning he scooped her up and she let out a squeal of surprise. He carried her down the hallway to the spare bedroom and lay her down, all but lying on top of her in the process.

“Stay,” she murmured against his mouth. She kissed him again. “Just sleep next to me.”

“I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself,” he whispered.

“Smart boy,” she replied.

He moved off of her, eyes still glued to her laying there, her eyes hooded. She wore a glazed expression full of lust and her pupils were blown.

“Fuck,” he said again.

He shut the door before he turned back toward her, hands gliding up her jean-clad legs until he reached her fly.

She smiled at him in triumph, waiting as he undid her jeans and pulled them down with her underwear. Her expression changed when he didn’t move back to take off his own pants.

“Wait.”

“Can I make you come again?” he blurted, and Darcy blinked at him.

“Are you fucking kiddin’ me?” she said, and he shook his head.

He joined her on the bed, lowering himself so that his face was between her thighs and he licked up her slit. She was wet already and he could taste her again.

He went for it, using his shoulder to push her legs further apart, his tongue buried inside her as far as he could reach. Darcy’s head fell back onto his pillow, her back arching.

He lapped at her core, never wasting a drop. He glanced up to see Darcy put a hand over her mouth to muffle her moans.

“Like this?” he whispered, pulling back to run his tongue up to the side of her clit and back down the other.

Her breathing was heavy. He repeated the action and her legs began to shake. Her spare hand found his head and she shoved his face closer to her. She was desperate, her fingers digging into his scalp. He was doing this to her. He was making her feel this good.

She came with a shudder and Bucky felt it on his chin, the wetness of her obvious arousal. Her pussy was a deep pink, still twitching for some time as Bucky moved back to wipe his mouth.

“Bucky,” she whispered. She sounded drunk.

She yanked at his borrowed shirt and pulled it over her head, before unclasping her grey bra and tossing it aside. She lay naked in his bed and Bucky stared down at her, sure that his dick was about to break through his jeans out of desperation.

“Bucky, come here.”

He closed his eyes. He wanted her, so badly. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted someone more but he knew himself. He knew he’d want to wreck her and Steve was just next door.

 _“No,”_ he mouthed.

 _“Baby,”_ she mouthed back.

Bucky swallowed, shaking his head. He leaned toward her, giving her a brief kiss on the lips before turning back toward the door.

Darcy sighed, pulling the blankets around her naked body and closing her eyes.

-

Bucky did not sleep well on the couch. He thought about jerking off in the bathroom but relented, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

When they left Steve the next morning, his friend kept glancing over at him with mounting concern.

“I’ll be fine,” Bucky whispered to him when they hugged goodbye.

“Jerk,” Steve retorted.

“Punk.”

During the drive to Bryn Mawr Bucky tried his hardest to not have his nerves get the best of him, but once they turned off the exit two and a half hours into their journey his knee was jiggling in anticipation.

Darcy texted ahead. Her mom and dad were both semi-retired. Darcy was the baby of the family, with two older brothers, Adam and Ben.

They pulled up at Darcy’s family home and she stepped out.

“My heart’s going super fast,” she said to Bucky, which he found assuring.

“You’ll be fine,” he found himself saying to her.

She took his hand in hers and they walked up to the front door. She rang the doorbell.

Her mom Betty was exactly how Bucky pictured her. She had Darcy’s smile and shape, her eyes brown instead of blue. Her hair looked freshly done and tall.

“Oh, my God,” she said to Bucky. “Mister Handsome. Goodness.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Darcy whined, and Bucky smiled at her discomfort.

“You are even better looking in person,” Betty went on, taking Bucky by the arm and pulling him inside.

The hallway was covered in framed photographs. Bucky saw Darcy from now, Darcy as a teenager and Darcy as a little girl. She had the same gap in her front teeth all the way through.

They ended up in the kitchen, Darcy’s father sitting at the table with the sports section and frowning.

“Bob.”

“Oh, hi!” Bob said, standing up to shake Bucky’s hand.

He looked at Darcy. “This the same James Barnes whose tush my wife saw the other month?”

“DAD!” Darcy yelled.

Bucky felt his face flush. “Uh, probably. Sorry about that.”

Bob waved him off. “You a Mets fan?”

“I was into the Dodgers as a kid,” Bucky said. “My dad and my grandpa liked ’em.”

Bob seemed impressed. Betty rustled up some coffee as Bucky sat down with Darcy beside him.

“Your parents well, Bucky?” Betty asked.

Darcy closed her eyes briefly before shooting Bucky an apologetic look.

“My dad… uh, he passed,” Bucky said.

He’d never said that out loud with Darcy within earshot before.

Betty turned around with two steaming mugs of coffee, looking shocked.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” she murmured. “I put my foot in it sometimes.”

“ _Sometimes_?” Darcy repeated.

“It’s okay,” Bucky murmured. His throat felt suddenly dry. “It was a long time ago. More than twenty years. He… died in front of me.”

“What?” Darcy said, and she took his hand that was resting on his knee and squeezed it.

“He got hit by a car,” Bucky added, his voice quiet. It was why his out broken watch was smashed, not because his father was careless with it when he was alive.

“How old were you?” Darcy asked.

“Eight,” he said.

Betty plonked the coffees down with some creamer in a jug and sugar in a bowl.

“At least you’re here still,” she said, smiling at him. “You sweet boy.”

“Mom,” Darcy hissed. She sounded embarrassed again.

Bucky didn’t mind the fussing. Betty was nice, and Bob seemed to be, too.

He took a sip of his coffee and sat while Betty chatted to Darcy.

“What about Ben, he get Hannah to say yes yet?” Darcy asked.

She didn’t sound as enthusiastic with her questions now as she did with Sam the night before. Bucky watched as she reacted to her mom’s news.

“Better. They’re getting married and she’s expecting.”

“What?” Darcy said. “Seriously?”

Betty nodded. She exchanged a look with her husband.

“Grandchild number three. I’m hoping for a girl this time. Two boys is enough for now.”

Darcy smiled but Bucky could see her heart wasn’t in it. He licked his lips.

“Darcy and I are going to Cannes,” he said.

Bob stared at his daughter blankly.

“It’s film festival,” Bucky added.

“Oh, great,” Bob said. He looked at Betty, still unsure. “That’s good, right?”

“It’s _amazing_ ,” Darcy said, her voice a little sharp. “What about Adam? He get anyone else pregnant?”

“Darcy,” her mom chided. “You need to understand that we don’t get this stuff so well. We try. We’re just better about talking about what we know.”

“Right,” Darcy muttered.

When they were leaving, Betty gave Bucky a wet kiss on the cheek. Darcy’s parents waved at them until they left their sight, turning down a street.

“Jesus,” Darcy hissed, sounding frustrated. “I could be nominated for being Natalie but it still doesn’t matter as much as getting married. _Still_.”

She glanced at Bucky.

“It does matter,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”

Darcy went quiet, sliding down in her seat a little.

After an hour more of driving they were well on their way to California, and Bucky was wondering about a hotel.

“Did you mean that, about Cannes?” she asked suddenly, and he looked at her.

“Yeah. I want to go with you.”

She blinked. “Can we stop for the night?”

“I was trying to think of a place where we won’t get bed bugs,” he replied.

Darcy began scrolling through her phone. She found a motel that was around three and half stars on the review websites and it was the best on offer for the next hundred or so miles.

“You want to get dinner?” she asked.

They bought burgers on the side of the road, with big milkshakes to wash them down. Darcy groaned about her metabolism.

“I’ll be playing the jolly fat sidekicks sooner or later,” she whined. “Chris Farley, y’know?”

Bucky chuckled. “I think you have no idea what you look like.”

They were sitting by the side of the road in the car and Darcy turned toward him, waggling her eyebrows.

“What do I look like, hot stuff?”

He chuckled. It was so easy with her. It shouldn’t be, but it was.

“You’re gorgeous.”

“I have stretch marks.”

Bucky kept his gaze trained on hers, licking ketchup from his thumb. He remembered her stretch marks that looked faded and almost silver against her creamy thighs.

“I like your stretch marks,” he said.

Darcy swallowed her mouthful. “You know, that hotel’s not too far away.”

“Hmm.”

“But if you don’t hurry and get us there soon I’ll blow you while you’re driving.”

Bucky froze with his thumb still in his mouth.

“Don’t tempt me to go at a snail’s pace just for that, sweetheart,” he managed to retort.

She leaned close to him, her eyes bright.

“I dare you.”

“No, I want to fuck you,” he said.

She blushed instantly. She didn’t say anything to that, and he felt a sense of accomplishment at rendering her speechless.

She settled into her seat and buckled her seatbelt as Bucky put aside his shake and started the car.

It took less than fifteen minutes to get to the hotel and by the time they got there Bucky’s blood was running hot, his heart hammering in his chest.

He hadn’t been like this with a girl since he was a teenager. When they checked in at the front desk, Darcy’s hand was tucked into the back pocket of his jeans and giving him the occasional squeeze.

When he brought it up as they walked to their room together, Darcy just shrugged.

“I like to admire a nice ass,” she said.

Bucky unlocked their door and pulled Darcy in by the waist. The door closed behind them and he pushed her up against it, his hands gripping at her generous rear end.

“I’m the same.”

She smiled at him. She tilted her head and they kissed. She tasted of her chocolate milkshake. They backed toward the bed and Darcy pushed him. Bucky fell back and she climbed on top of him, claiming him with another kiss.

“You drive me crazy,” he whispered as she pulled off her shirt, dropping it on the floor. He watched as she unhooked her bra and threw it aside as well. Her nipples were pebbled against the cool air of the night and Bucky surged forward, unable to control himself any more.

He kissed her naked chest, tugging a nipple into his mouth and sucking. He wanted to do that for months, when her chest rubbed up against his during scenes. He rubbed her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Darcy grunted and then gasped, “That feels so fucking good. _Bucky_.”

The way she gasped his name made him feel whole, made him want to bury himself inside her, wrap his arms around her and never let her go. The warm weight of her in his arms made him believe that it was all real. He could stop wishing and show her how he felt with his mouth, fingers and cock.

Her fingers threaded through his hair and he loved the way she gripped at him, causing his scalp to tingle. He was hard in his jeans as she rubbed against him without shame.

He sucked her as his other hand found her fly, his fingers lowered far enough for him to feel she was soaking through her panties and her hips canted toward him, desperate.

“Fuck,” she gasped. She laughed breathlessly. “I’m a mess.”

She was messy and he made her that way. He slipped his fingers into her panties and brushed them along her slit, detaching himself from her nipple to look down at her crotch.

He could hear she was wet as he rubbed her in slow circles, teasing her. Darcy bit her lip between her teeth, her breath coming in huffs. With little warning, he flipped them so Darcy was on her back, and he tugged at her jeans to pull them off.

He pulled off her wet panties and tasted her again, his hot breath on her cunt enough to make her whimper in between lazy licks.

“Quit teasing me,” she whined.

He felt like he did before he went down on her the first time. He was on the precipice of something greater or something worse. He wasn’t afraid of falling. He’d already fallen for Darcy. He was afraid of being less than what she needed.

He leaned back and Darcy sat up, leaning on her elbows to look at him. She brought her legs back together and she blinked.

“Bucky.”

“Just…”

He didn’t know what to say. He needed a minute. He felt drunk with desire but he was afraid to lose her, afraid he would eventually make her regret ever knowing him.

“Bucky,” she said again.

He glanced at her. “Sorry.”

She shook her head, arms open. “Don’t be.”

She sat up and Bucky joined her, her arms wrapping around him. She kissed him, tongues gliding together and making Bucky’s dick twitch between them. It was so intimate it made Bucky feel as though his chest was trapped in a vice and his eyes watered.

He let Darcy tug at his clothes, undressing him. He felt her hands brush his crotch as she undid his jeans. He shucked out of them and turned back toward her, his boxer briefs the only thing between them now.

“Take those off, too,” Darcy whispered.

Bucky nodded. “Okay.”

Darcy lay on her back and waited as Bucky pulled them off, tossing them to join the rest of their clothes on the floor.

Darcy’s eyes were staring at his flushed dick that was leaking and pink, straining toward her.

“You’ve seen it before,” he said, laughing a little. He sounded nervous like he knew he was.

“It’s different now,” she murmured. “I still like it.”

He joined her, his hips resting between her thighs as they kissed once more. Darcy’s eyes grew wide as he lined up his cock with her, the tip of him brushing against her cunt.

“If you don’t fuck me, I might die,” she whispered, attempting to lighten the mood.

He didn’t take his eyes off hers as he pushed inside, her cunt so much better than he could have imagined, better than his fingers inside her. He sank into her and she wrapped around him like a glove, her muscles contracting.

He didn’t move at all for a minute, sucking in a breath as she rolled her hips. She was trying to draw him in. With the back of Darcy’s knees nestled in the crooks of his elbows he pushed her legs into her torso and Darcy’s eyes widened.

“Fu-uck,” she gasped. “Bucky. _Please_.”

He moved slowly because if he didn’t he’d be coming too fast. He would have blown his load hours ago if he knew what she felt like. So warm and tight, and _his_. All his.

He drew back until he nearly fell out of her before slamming his hips into her with a grunt. Darcy gasped, her hot breath on his cheek.

“ _Bucky_. I- I – fuck – _Bucky_.”

She was desperate and nearly incoherent as he began to move faster. Soon he took no second to recover, driving into her over and over. He couldn’t stop himself. He felt his balls tighten but he couldn’t come, not yet.

He brought her into a kiss, desperate and clumsy. He glanced down between them and saw her fingers touching her clit.

“You playin’ with yourself?” he murmured, and Darcy whimpered as she nodded.

“You’re getting me there.”

His fingers joined hers, feeling her wet against him and wet all around him. She clamped down on his cock and he grunted, trying his hardest not to come as soon as she did. He pulled out of her and moved his body down, licking at her between her legs, wanting to feel her twitch against his tongue.

“Fuck, Bucky. It’s too much, I can’t –”

She came again with a shudder, less intense as before but she still tried to curl in on herself as she rode out her climax. Her hands fell to his shoulders and he let her tug him back toward her. He wiped his wet mouth on his shoulder and kissed her, bracketing her face with his arms.

“Your turn to come,” she whispered, and she pulled him toward her by his cock, sliding him home. They both moaned and Darcy wrapped her legs around his middle.

He didn’t want it to end but he knew he was too close.

“Come for me,” she whispered. “Come for me.”

He buried his face in her hair, their arms wrapped around one another as he rutted mindlessly, chasing his own release.

When he came it could have been more than a few seconds but it felt so much longer, drawing out like his orgasm could be endless. He moaned, kissing Darcy as he shuddered. The feeling was nothing but exquisite.

“Baby,” she whispered, so happy.

He whimpered, holding her to him while he was still seated inside her and softening.

He moved his head up to look into her eyes, brushing back her hair off her sweaty brow.

Her eyes were full of tears.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked at the word count of this and I'm like... "Guess I don't like to play around."
> 
> Thank you for all the amazing responses to the last part. I think you deserve some more smut, and so do Bucky and Darcy. 
> 
> The Lizzo song I quoted made me immediately think of Bucky when I first heard it the other day. I had no idea that I'd already heard some of Lizzo before and now I stan lol
> 
>  
> 
> [The Death of a Marriage Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170838034/playlist/4UJXVMguNebxtSWbJpgJmf?)  
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com)


	9. Part Nine: Nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little pwp but I'm not complaining.

_Don't you know too much already_  
_I'll only hurt you if you let me_  
_Call me friend but keep me closer (Call me back)_

\- "when the party's over" by Billie Eilish

 

**Part Nine: Nowhere**

 

 

Darcy bought a pair of green sunglasses from the gas station, bringing Bucky his morning coffee and donut. She had her own. He liked that she ate like he did.

It was the morning after the first night together. When Bucky turned over to see Darcy topless beside him he was struck, watching her chest rise and fall, her mouth slightly open. He blinked at the sunlight streaming in under the curtains, the dust motes in the air sinking to the carpet. He hadn’t slept that well in months, not since the start of his time with Rachel.

He took the donut Darcy handed him in its brown paper bag and looked inside.

“You got me a jelly donut?” he said with a chuckle.

Darcy settled in her seat. “Of course.”

He was constantly aware of her body close to his. They didn’t have sex more than once last night. He was wrecked, and he found himself committing to the cuddling. Darcy fell asleep draped across him. They left the hotel before check-out time to make a good start on their trip ahead. He kissed her good morning but they didn’t go any further, despite his cock twitching with interest.

He felt nervous. Nervous and excited, like when he first started on _The Death of a Marriage_. She leaned toward him with her new shades on and kissed him, tasting of powdered sugar and coffee. His hand reached up to cup the back of her head and she sighed, her tongue darting out to meet his.

They made out for a few minutes until Darcy drew back, her lips pink and wet, panting.

“I had a dream about you,” she murmured, and Bucky’s eyebrows hiked.

“Really?”

“It was…” She bit her lip and Bucky longed to be back in bed, inside her and making her come undone beneath him. “Kind of dirty.”

“Really?” he said again. “After what happened?”

Were they going to talk about it now? It was arguably the most intense sex Bucky ever had, and not just because it was good. It seemed to take everything out of them both. He remembered Darcy’s eyes filled with tears.

“Yeah,” Darcy whispered. “Kind of took me by surprise. I don’t usually dream.”

“Me, neither,” Bucky admitted. Xanax took that away. He was usually a light sleeper anyway.

Darcy settled back in her seat and Bucky started the car, finally taking off again. He had no idea how far they’d go that day, but Darcy didn’t seem urgent about returning to L.A. He didn’t know how to process going back there with everything changed between them. At least, he hoped it was different. She was his friend, but she said she missed him.

They drove with the top up. Bucky knew he was fine with the wind, but Darcy would probably prefer not having the whistling gale running through her for hours on end. She hooked up her music and Bucky drove for a couple hours, and Darcy was uncharacteristically quiet the majority of the way. She watched the road, leaning her elbow on the ledge.

At one point she picked up her phone and texted someone, putting it away.

“Just telling Steve where we are,” she said, giving Bucky a small smile.

Bucky felt something like embarrassment. She was looking after him, for Steve. He blinked, looking back at the road.

“Right.”

“He wanted to know,” she added, sounding different.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

He sounded close to grumpy. He was an animal. Did he reach eighteen and never mature? What the hell was wrong with him? Darcy was just being kind, a good friend, and he was trying to throw a tantrum about it.

They fell silent again, and Bucky focused on the road inside of how Darcy was looking down at her hands.

“When did…” she began. She cleared her throat. “When did you meet Steve?”

Bucky hadn’t expected the question but it was bound to come up. His lips parted, trying to focus for a second while he still felt embarrassed.

“We grew up in Brooklyn, on the same block. He, uh, didn’t have a dad, either.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “That’s awful.”

“He lived with us for a couple years after his mom died,” Bucky added.

He knew Steve would be a better storyteller. He kind of wished it wasn’t him saying all this to Darcy. He glanced at her, to see her eyes widen.

“He… lost both his parents?” Darcy murmured.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” she hissed. She touched her mouth with her fingers.

“Yeah,” Bucky said again, because he couldn’t think of what else to say. He swallowed. “He’s doing pretty okay, though.”

“He got a girlfriend?” Darcy asked.

Bucky hadn’t asked while he was there, but he knew Steve would have brought that up if he did. He broke up with his last girlfriend a year or so ago, and before then he was always bragging about her, because she made him so proud.

“No.”

Darcy nodded. Oh, God. Was she interested in Steve? A series of thoughts flooded Bucky’s mind and he grit his teeth, hating himself for all of them. What if she came to New York as a favor for Steve, only to like him more than him? What if she regretted fucking him last night? What if Steve could make her a thousand times happier than Bucky ever could?

He felt ashamed, and Darcy touched his leg.

“Where’d you go?” she asked, and Bucky shook his head.

“Nowhere.”

“Could we pull over? Please?”

She sounded urgent, and Bucky glanced around, seeing an exit sign in the distance. They ended up at a truck stop, pulling up beside a couple other cars that sat empty.

Bucky kept his hands on the steering wheel.

“We need to talk,” Darcy said.

Bucky felt his heartbeat pick up but he tried his hardest to not visibly react. Nothing ever good came after _we need to talk_.

“About what?”

He voice betrayed him, and Darcy took hold of his chin, turning her head toward him, forcing him to look her in the eye.

“When I asked you to try, did you know what I meant?”

Bucky blinked. “I guess so.”

She wanted him to leave New York with her, to meet her family.

“I like you,” she said. She said each word carefully, to make her point. “I like you a lot. I don’t usually sleep with guys without knowing them a while.”

“You’ve only known me a few months,” he retorted, and Darcy made a face at him.

She seemed annoyed, but it was mild.

“You saw my tits on the second day we ever worked together,” she snapped. “You met my mom and my dad. You know me.”

He knew why he was fighting this. He was scared. He desperately wanted to keep rejection away by downplaying everything. He knew she knew that though, by the way she was looking at him.

“I asked you to try because I know you usually don’t,” Darcy said, searching his face.

Bucky nodded. “I’m kinda shitty at this stuff.”

“Elaborate,” Darcy said, crossing her arms.

Bucky’s eyes fell to her chest for a second and he blinked.

“What?”

“How are you shitty at this? When was the last time you tried with someone? _Really_ tried?”

Bucky rubbed his eyes, wanting a cigarette. He hadn’t even thought about smoking for a good two hours, a new record. He took out his pack with his lighter. He lowered the window all the way down, lighting up and taking a long drag. He exhaled through the corner of his mouth, away from Darcy.

The entire time she stared him down, arms still crossed.

“I don’t sleep with guys that quickly, Bucky,” she said. “My last boyfriend was Ian, and I was with him since I was eighteen.”

He finally understood. She was telling him she didn’t want to regret this. He smoked, trying to figure out what to say next.

This beautiful girl, who had been nothing but kind. She was everything he ever wanted, and the thought made him feel kind of sick. She was everything and he was nothing, he couldn’t even make it past the morning after before things went sour. This interaction was proving it, with how she glared at him while he sucked on his pacifier.

“Listen –” Bucky said.

“Oh, fuck you,” Darcy snapped, twisting in her seat to unbuckle her belt. She got out of the car and stomped off, and Bucky froze for a second, trying to gather himself.

 _Fuck. Fuck._ What was he supposed to do? _Fuck._ He never usually panicked when a girl said something like that to him. It always meant they were about to leave his place, or he’d need to make a hasty exit.

He got out, seeing her stalking toward the truck stop diner. He slammed his door, throwing his cigarette on the ground before breaking into a jog.

Darcy ducked inside and he followed.

“Can we talk?”

“I don’t want to talk to you, I changed my mind,” Darcy snapped over her shoulder.

She slipped into a booth and he took the spot opposite hers, and she didn’t look at him in the eye, grabbing a menu to read over.

“Darcy,” Bucky said, his voice low. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she replied primly.

“Holy shit!”

Bucky turned his head toward the new voice, a guy in his early twenties standing by with his notepad to take their order.

“Dude, you’re James Barnes,” the guy said, his eyes wide. “Holy shit.”

Bucky blinked at him, wishing he could disappear. He’d never wanted it so badly, but he just blinked at him for a few seconds, before the words managed to travel to his mouth from his brain.

“Uh, yeah, man.”

“Dude! What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Travis!” a woman at the counter hissed. “ _Language_.”

Travis made a sheepish face at her. “Sorry. You guys ordering?”

Darcy shoved her menu aside.

“I want the Bangin’ Burger, no bacon. Coke. _Don’t_ give me Diet Coke.”

Travis only just seemed to notice Darcy and his mouth fell open.

“Uh, right. Sure, lady,” he muttered. He looked back at Bucky. “What about you, Mister Barnes?”

Oh, fuck this day. Bucky was ready to jump through a window.

“Coffee,” he muttered. “Black.”

He wasn’t hungry. Travis walked off and Bucky began to jiggle his knee, looking at Darcy the whole time. She was staring at her fork, leaning her elbows on the table.

“I know it’s a big deal,” he blurted, and she glanced up.

She was so beautiful. He felt like a pig, touching her at all for what it did to her now. She looked so sad, like just before he went down on her the first time.

“I’m sorry I’m an asshole,” he added. He licked his lips. “If you want to forget this happened, I’d understand.”

Darcy let out a breath of a laugh that lacked mirth and Bucky felt his stomach twist.

“Jesus, Bucky,” she muttered. “That’s a sad way to live.”

“What?”

Before Darcy could elaborate, Bucky’s coffee was placed before him. Travis was hovering, waiting. Bucky glanced up at him, eyebrows hiking.

“You… wanted something, man?”

“Uh, just – uh, oh, my God. If I tell my girlfriend I met you and didn’t ask for a selfie she would kill me,” Travis babbled, taking out his phone. “Do you mind?”

Bucky gave a shrug, and Travis knelt on closer to him, bringing his phone up. Bucky caught a glimpse of his own face on the screen. He looked tired, and he didn’t want to see himself. He made sure to look at the camera, giving a half smile.

Travis patted his shoulder. “Dude. Thank you. My girl will freak, y’know?”

He gave Bucky a wink, who could only manage a fake laugh in return, knowing exactly what the guy meant. His girlfriend would be all over him, and he had Bucky to thank for that. When Travis finally left them alone again, he caught Darcy’s eye. He had a feeling she’d been watching him the whole time.

Bucky cleared his throat, and a smirk spread across his face.

“What?”

“You’re so fucking cute,” she murmured. The compliment seemed to come out of left field. He thought moments ago that she was willing to hitchhike back to L.A. rather than be with him. Bucky stared at her. “And you’re terrible at taking compliments.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he murmured, picking up his cup of coffee and taking a sip. It wasn’t great coffee by any stretch of the imagination, but he didn’t know what else to do with his hands.

“I told Steve you deflect,” Darcy added. “Kind of assuring that I’m not the only person you do that with.”

Bucky glanced at the ceiling. Steve was inside his head already, pushing him. Urging him to look her in the eye and tell her how he felt. But he wasn’t Steve. Not by a longshot.

“What else did he say?”

His knee was back to jiggling. He felt the irritation wash over him, making him push aside the coffee and work his jaw while Darcy watched him. Whatever assessment she was making, it couldn’t be good. But then her face changed, and she bit her lip for a second.

“He said you’re lonely,” she said.

He couldn’t decide if he liked or hated how unpredictable she could be. Other girls were easy. She was work. He felt himself bristle, heckles going up.

“Steve’s a punk,” he replied. That was all he could manage to say.

Darcy just stared at him, astonished. She was still for several seconds, not even blinking, before she finally glanced away, shaking her head.

Fuck if she wasn’t good at making him feel bad. Other girls never got close to that, not in the way they wanted to. And Bucky knew why – he was in love with Darcy, and he never had been in love before. There wasn’t a manual for this, and he had no idea how long she’d hold on. Maybe today would make her regret she ever spoke to him outside of work.

Travis brought Darcy her food, but Bucky didn’t return his smile. She ate in silence, but only managed half her burger and a few fries. She sipped her Coke before she nudged it away.

Bucky watched her the whole time, but she didn’t look at him again. She grew more withdrawn, until she sat back and mumbled:

“Can we got now?”

Bucky nodded, though she wasn’t looking his way. She got out her wallet but Bucky was quicker, slapping down more than enough to cover the food, and Darcy pulled her hand back, sighing.

He followed her out. He didn’t return Travis’ wave goodbye. He unlocked the car and got in.

Darcy was staring straight ahead, and he touched her knee. He knew she shouldn’t have done that without asking, but she didn’t recoil, didn’t slap his hand away.

“Darce,” he whispered.

She burst into tears. He’d made her cry twice now. Twice in the space of three days. He touched her arm, but she wasn’t close to stopping. She was wracked with sobs, shaking all over, and she still didn’t look at him.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please don’t cry. Not over me. _Please._ ”

His voice broke at the end and he gathered her in his arms, her face buried into his chest. He stroked her hair with one hand, kissing her head.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. He felt his own eyes start to sting. He was back to last night when he was seconds from being inside her, his chest like a vice. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

She was so soft in his arms, and warm. It felt so right, but they were in a car in the middle of Kentucky, days away from reality. This wasn’t close to what Bucky’s life was like outside of this embrace. He chose to ignore that, because he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t push her away.

He tilted her face up to his, wiping away tears with his thumbs.

“No more,” he whispered. “Okay?”

Darcy swallowed, and then she was kissing him. They only broke apart when they had to come up for air, and Darcy’s eyes had a different glaze to them, her lips wet.

Her tongue darted out and she licked along his lips, and Bucky hissed.

“Can I drive?” she asked, and Bucky blinked.

No-one ever drove his Buick, not even Steve.

“Okay.”

He got out, missing her body against his, and they switched seats. He watched as she adjusted the seat for her shorter legs, and the rear-view mirror. He remembered she never drove in L.A.

“When was the last time you drove?” Bucky asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Christmas,” she replied. She glanced at him. “What, you worried?”

“I guess that’s a word you could use.”

He felt strange. This was his car, his cherished toy, and he gave it so easily. He was more nervous about how well this was all going suddenly.

She perked up, and they drove for a few more hours until the sun began to set. They pulled up at a little hotel with pink roofing and Bucky turned to Darcy once she parked the Buick.

“We didn’t die,” she said. “Progress.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling back at her.

He followed her out, glancing around. He rubbed the back of his head and sighed. Darcy turned back, eyebrows furrowing.

“What’s up?”

“We getting the one room, or -?”

She rolled her eyes at him, turning away. He kept following her, thinking the events of the day over. She looked so natural, sitting there in the driver’s seat while Bucky sat back.

She opened the door to the reception and Bucky ducked in with her. The lady at the front desk lit up at the sight of him.

“Oh, my God,” the woman said, hand going to cover her mouth.

“We want a room, please,” Darcy said, waving at the lady to get her attention.

The woman nodded. “Sorry. Just. Okay.”

Bucky wished he wore his cap, or something to make him look different. Each reminder of who he was brought him away from Darcy, and that was the last thing he wanted.

They got their room key and they walked back to the car to get out some of the t-shirts Bucky bought over the last couple of weeks. Darcy pilfered a couple of them for herself, and he loved the idea of her wearing his clothes.

They ordered pizza and picked it up, coming back to eat in their room. They ate in silence, until Bucky couldn’t take it anymore.

“We don’t have to drive all the way back,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Darcy chewed and swallowed her mouthful, frowning.

“We could fill up the tank, go wherever we wanted,” he added, and she blinked.

“Bucky, we have _lives_ back there. I have to keep appointments,” she said.

Bucky ducked. “Yeah.”

“But I want to. I wish we could,” she murmured, and Bucky felt his stomach flip at the admission. “It just doesn’t work that way.”

“You got a passport?” he asked, and she nodded. “So we could go to Paris, Rome… Tokyo. We could get a jet a fly anywhere you wanted.”

He touched one of her crossed legs. “Anywhere.”

“Bucky…”

“Come on,” he said. He hadn’t done this in so long, trying to hatch a plan with a girl. He might have done it back in high school, when he first spoke about living Brooklyn. That girlfriend obviously fell through. She went to college, and then Bucky cheated on her. That memory bubbling up made him press his lips together, physically drawing back from her.

“We need to do V.O. stuff for Stephen,” she said. “Cannes is in six weeks. Maybe after Cannes we can go somewhere for a weekend.”

“I think I’ll have a lot of free time,” he murmured, looking at the ceiling.

“Well, I won’t,” Darcy said. She touched his arm. “Hey. I want to. I just can’t.”

Bucky swallowed, lying back on their bed and closing his eyes.

He heard Darcy sigh and start to put away their food. When she went into the bathroom to shower, he slipped in, seeing her standing under the water behind the curtain. He itched to step inside, but something stopped him. He brushed his teeth instead, trying to not look at himself in the mirror.

He took off his shirt and jeans, slipping into bed and closing his eyes while Darcy was still in the bathroom. He’d shower tomorrow. He just wanted to the day to fucking over already. He was tired, and sad.

Darcy came out, shutting off the lights before she slipped in beside him, and he hands were suddenly roaming his chest as she pressed kisses along his jaw.

“Could you just…?”

Bucky couldn’t see her in the dark, but he pictured her face. She sounded hesitant, unsure.

“Please, could you hug me?”

God, this girl. She managed to get her hooks into his heart, and she was the one who hesitated. She was out of his league entirely and she had no idea.

He pulled her toward him and she landed on top of him, his arms wrapping around her. Darcy sighed, her nose brushing his.

It was too much. It felt too good, and he hadn’t been honest all day. Never mind that she was pressed up against his crotch.

“Darcy,” he murmured.

She kissed him, and he kissed back reflexively, because she was a perfect distraction.

“Darcy,” he said again, and he pulled his lips away from her. His hands held her apart from him as she panted.

“Haven’t you been thinking about this all day? I have. I want you.”

Bucky pushed her back as gently as he could so that she sat beside him while he reached for the lamp on his side of the bed.

The room was flooded with warm yellow light and Darcy was beautiful. She always was, but when she was full of pleasure and longing, she was her most captivating.

Bucky stared at her.

“I am lonely,” he said.

“What?”

“I said, I am lonely, Darce,” he whispered. And then he felt the urge to cry and he swallowed a couple times, looking away from her. “But it’s not your problem to solve. Sometimes I do things and I don’t know why. I know how this ends.”

Darcy’s face fell. “How?”

“Screaming, crying. You wishing you never met me.”

They had a variation of this same conversation outside the bar in Brooklyn, and Darcy passed a hand over her face now, sighing.

“What about what I want?” she murmured.

“It’s not that simple.”

“But it really is.”

She glanced around behind her. “Then… I don’t want to be here.”

Bucky felt his heart in his throat. His head and his heart were in two different places, and they couldn’t connect anymore.

When Darcy got off the bed, making her way over to her handbag where her jeans lay on the floor, Bucky threw the covers back and scrambled over to her.

“Wait.”

“I want to go,” Darcy said. “And I’m not doing this to make you change your mind. It’s for my own sanity.”

She pulled on her jeans as Bucky watched her from the end of the bed. She rubbed her eyes, looking like she was trying to hold it in.

“I’m lonely,” Bucky said again, and her eyes shot up to meet his. “I’m lonely and I want you and I miss you when you’re not around, too.”

She paused, hands holding her beanie.

Bucky pressed on, despite the fact that he knew she was about to know everything. She deserved it. She really did.

“That jacket, the one Linda lost?”

Darcy nodded.

“ _I_ lost it. I went to a strip club one night during the shoot and I left it there.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. She probably thought he was a scumbag.

“I was… fucking high and I got a dance from this girl Jen and she –”

He cut himself off, not wanting to admit to that blowjob. It was probably too much to hear.

He looked at the ceiling and then back at Darcy.

“I lie. I cheat, I smoke too much. I screen calls all the time, I can’t sleep.”

Darcy’s face softened, and she dropped her beanie.

“I'm fucked up. And I’m scared you’ll leave me 'cause it would fucking kill me.”

He’d never said something like that out loud before. It felt good to be honest, but he was sure Darcy wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

He dared to lock eyes with her, and she looked sad.

“I’m fucking empty,” he finished.

Before he could fully process it, Darcy walked toward him and brought him into a hug, clutching him to her middle as she stood by the bed.

She kissed his head over and over, squeezing him tight. His face was just beneath her chest, and he could feel she wasn’t wearing her bra. He closed his eyes, breathing her in.

“I’m not going,” she murmured.

“Okay.”

She let go of him, lowering herself to kiss him. She was slow at first but quickly grew urgent, and Bucky believed that she’d been thinking about this all day. She was clumsy and desperate, all tongue, teeth and lips with her hands gripping his hair.

He lucked out completely. She wanted to give him everything, and soon they were on the bed again, Darcy on top of him as they kissed. They were under a haze of need, Bucky’s fears lost somewhere far away from their bed, and all Bucky wanted to do was get lost in her.

His hands were under her shirt and caressing the soft skin of her stomach and sides, before reaching to cup her tits, rubbing her nipples as they hardened. Darcy moaned against his mouth, hips rocking. He needed to get her out of her clothes.

She drew back, tugging one hand away. Maybe he went too far too soon. He half expected her to tell him to pump the brakes, but then she drew his hand up from under her shirt to her mouth. She parted her lips, her tongue running along his middle finger.

“Fuck,” Bucky managed to grunt, his dick suddenly aching in his boxer briefs.

She sucked his finger into her mouth, and it lit a fire in his belly. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, the way she relished in sucking him between her plush lips, her eyes dark.

Her other hand was on his waistband, tugging it down. Bucky lifted his hips they pulled his underwear off together, throwing them somewhere on the floor.

Darcy broke eye contact to duck down, wrapping her hand around his shaft as she took his cock in her mouth. He felt giddy, moaning as she drew her tongue along the underside of him, teasing the head when she reached it.

“Fuck, that feels so…” Bucky gasped as her head bobbed, her lips tight and wet.

How was she this good so fast? She’d barely even started and he could feel his balls tightening. It probably didn’t help that he’d been wanting to touch her all day, to feel her between her legs.

He moaned louder, wishing he could slow it down but it felt too fucking perfect. His chest heaved as one of his hands went to thread his fingers through her hair. She was taking him past what he expected, her throat tightening and relaxing against him.

He wanted to thrust into her so badly but he didn’t want to hurt her. His thighs began to shake and he was certain it was going to be a knee-buckling orgasm that she ripped from him.

“Darcy, I’m gonna come,” he gasped. “Fuck. You feel so good, you’re so good –”

He closed his eyes, clamping his mouth shut to stop himself from babbling so much, because she brought it out of him. He couldn’t contain himself around her.

It was a bolt of pleasure coursing through him, and he thought his brain might have broken. Darcy kept her lips tightly sealed around him and she sucked him through it, swallowing what she could.

Bucky panted, feeling a tingle all the way to his toes and he opened his eyes, seeing her lick her lips.

He surged forward, kissing her. Darcy chuckled, moving back.

“Bucky, my mouth,” she said, but he kissed her again.

Intimacy was his kink. It wasn’t that he wanted to taste his seed, it was the idea of there being no boundary between them, nothing that he was afraid of. His hands went to jeans and he popped the button, still kissing her as he pulled down her fly, tugging her jeans past her knees.

She stepped out of them, and her panties had a wet patch on the front.

“I’m still hard,” he murmured into her skin as he pulled off her shirt. “Please, can I -?”

“You don’t have to ask,” she breathed. “I was gonna beg.”

Bucky growled, turning them so he was on top of her, pulling off her panties and tossing them aside. Her legs were up past his shoulders again as he pushed inside, and they both gasped together.

He was lost in her, so safe, but so alive. She was wet and willing, moaning as he drove into her again and again –

She begged anyway, though she didn’t have to.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…”

He kneaded one breast, his thumb in her mouth. He felt his desire stir again and he could come, _maybe_ , if he tried hard enough.

She kept talking like she couldn’t stop if she tried. Praises, cuss words and breathy gasps. His thumb left her mouth to play with her clit, grazing it on one side. He watched her eyes widen as he fucked her hard and fast.

It was perfect. She was perfect, open and close to the edge, her breathing heavy. Maybe he’d never get it so good again. Maybe she was everything he ever wanted, needed.

When she came, she clamped down on his cock, releasing, squeezing again, releasing… she cried out as she shuddered.

She was exhausted, panting beneath him. He slipped out of her, her shaky legs lowering onto the bed. He wrapped himself around her, their collective panting the only sound for several minutes.

Darcy got up to use the bathroom and returned, looking like a glowing goddess with her hair tussled and her cheeks still flushed. Bucky stared at her and she smiled.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

They kissed again, lying beside on another. His hand dipped to glide down her waist and hip, grabbing a handful of her ass.

She laughed against his lips, and he felt his cock stir to life again.  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter seemed all over the place but I've had days like this many, many times when you're up and down with the person you love and it's like you're either bickering or wrapped up in each other. Bucky's a mess, we all know this. At least he knows it, too. 
> 
> Thank you so, so much for the feedback I got on the last part. And even if you don't comment or leave kudos, I still appreciate every person who reads what I write. You keep me motivated despite everything. <3
> 
>  
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	10. Part Ten: How'd I get so lucky?

_I don't know_  
_How to live_  
_Without the breath_  
_You finish_

\- "Breathe" by Astrid S

 

 

**Part Ten: How'd I get so lucky?**

 

 

Bucky woke the next morning with Darcy’s arm across his bare chest. He smelt her all around him, her musk, her come, her spit. He breathed it in, feeling his chest tighten.

He loved her. He knew that without a doubt now, and it wouldn’t be long before she knew it as well, if she hadn’t known already. As she stirred awake, he kissed her brow, moving her onto her back as she blinked up at him dreamily.

She smiled at him, and then he lowered himself between her legs, thumbs spreading her lower lips open before he tasted her, kissing her. Her breath hitched, and she laughed. She moaned once her sucked at her clit. It was so natural. She was soon ready, and Bucky was, too. He climbed back up, her legs wrapping around his waist before he pushed inside her with a gasp. He would never tire of that feeling of her around him when he was buried inside her to the hilt. Even last night when they went at it over and over until he was too soft and Darcy was too sore, neither of them really wanted to stop.

They made love then, the late morning sun on the rumpled bed sheets, Darcy’s brow sweaty once more. Bucky moved slower than usual, with a lot of languid kisses and caresses. The latched himself on to her nipple and Darcy’s fingers thread through his hair. 

When Darcy came, she gasped his name, and Bucky soon followed. They lay together in their sticky, sweaty bliss until Darcy gently wriggled out from under him. He saw the mess between her thighs and stared, feeling something like a possessiveness fly through him. He’d never felt that before, he wanted Darcy to be his, and for him to be hers.

It was past noon. They’d slept in, but all they needed was a shower and a coffee and they could leave. Bucky followed Darcy into the bathroom and she moved the curtain aside for him to step under the water. He washed his hair with the mini shampoo, rationing it so that Darcy could use some. He kept glancing over at her as she scrubbed her body with soap. It was like they were kids again, sneaking around, sneaking looks at each other. In the tiny space together, Bucky lowered himself as the water beat against his back. With Darcy standing with her legs slightly apart he licked up her thigh to her slit. He spent a while between her legs, until the hot water ran out and Darcy came twice more on his tongue. He didn’t recognize himself. He was drawn to her in a visceral way that defied logic, defied all sense. His heart was so full he worried it might burst, and then what was he to do?

When they finally left the hotel, they drove for several hours until it was close to dusk. And then they did again what they did the previous night. They had dinner and then made love, but Bucky was in no hurry. Darcy smiled up at him, gasped, came with his name on her lips. It seemed too good to be true. Bucky wanted this to mean as much to her as it did to him.

They lay together with the TV on, but they weren’t paying much attention to it. Bucky’s arm was wrapped around Darcy’s shoulders, her neck resting in the crook of his elbow. He played with a piece of her hair, kissing her temple, murmuring into her skin.

“The other night, why’d you tear up?”

Darcy blinked at him. He meant when they first had sex, and her eyes were full of tears. She looked so happy.

“I was relieved,” she replied, “that it happened. I’d thought about it long enough.”

“Me, too,” Bucky said.

“Really?” Darcy said.

She was so adorable with how touched she was. Her whole face changed, and she leaned toward him to kiss him, her hands gripping his hair.

“I love that you do that,” he said.

“What?”

She tugged his bottom lip between her teeth.

“Grab my hair like that,” he replied.

She laughed, hands gripping again, tugging him down. Their mouths slanted together and Bucky groaned. His hips moved forward reflexively, and Darcy broke off their kiss to look down.

“Again?”

Bucky ducked his head, feeling his face flush. He couldn’t help it. It was like she was in his blood. He couldn’t get enough, not ever.

“Yeah.”

“You’re so fucking cute,” Darcy whispered. She pulled his hair and his eyes widened. It did something to him, her being possessive and bold. “I love that about you.”

“I love – I love that you drive me crazy.”

He almost said too much, and he kissed her again, rolling so that her hips cradled his. He held his cock to line them up, dipping inside for a second and hissing.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured. He sounded like he was in awe. Fuckdrunk, lost in his pleasure. He moaned, feeling overwhelmed by how good she felt when he pushed inside.

His pace was quicker than before. He went fast and hard, Darcy’s eyes widening.

“You feel so good,” he gasped. “Fuck, I l-love –”

He dissolved into a moan. He felt her muscles contract as he pushed forward, claiming her with another kiss. Her nails were digging into his back. She hadn’t done that before. It only spurred him on. Darcy brought herself off, her hands between them where they met. Bucky pulled out and turned her over, backing her up so her ass rested against his hips.

Darcy had barely recovered from her orgasm, panting with her face in the sheets, her hands gripping. Bucky stared at the long plane of her back, the dimples above her ass, the way her rear was a devastating heart shape. They hadn’t done it from behind before, but it was about time.

They both moaned as he pushed inside, Darcy’s hands scrambling for purchase once Bucky was fully seated inside her once more. He stayed still, taking a few slow breaths to steady himself. Darcy was like a wet, warm glove, a perfect fit. Sex wasn’t meant to be like this. At least, Bucky thought that before a few days ago. To his surprise, though he stayed still Darcy was moving back and forth, and he looked down to see himself disappear inside her as she worked him over.

He gripped her hips and began to move, making long, slow strokes and Darcy moaned. Bucky could feel he was already close, but he wouldn’t come. Not until she did again, not until she lost control. He moved one hand from her hip, slipping it under across her stomach and down to graze her clit.

She tightened around him automatically, her breath hitching. She screwed up her face as she panted, and Bucky could see her cheeks were flushed.

Bucky moved forward so that his chest was pressed against her back, his hips never slowing. One of her arms came up to grab the back of his neck, tugging at his hair clumsily. Bucky moved his other hand from her hip to clutch at her breast, holding her in place as he rutted.

She clenched around him, her whole body seizing up as she came, her broken moan all Bucky wanted to hear. He did that to her. He made her feel that good. He became erratic, grunting as he spilled inside her, their bodies stuck together with sweat.

He panted, and then he began to laugh in her hair, feeling light-headed. He slipped out of her and fell down on the bed, wiping his face with his hand. Darcy followed, sighing.

He glanced at her, bringing her into another kiss, but she did not return the heat of it. He pulled back, searching her face.

She looked withdrawn, lost somewhere in her head.

“Baby?” he murmured, and she swallowed. “Did I – did I hurt you? Was I too rough?”

He’d want to die if he hurt her. He waited for her to tell him he was an animal, that he had no control, that he was a selfish lover and didn’t deserve to touch her. He was alarmed by how quickly his mood changed in that half a minute. That couldn’t be normal.

“You were going to say something,” Darcy said. “Then you… censured yourself. You stopped.”

Bucky felt his stomach drop. _Shit._   

It was too soon, too much. She was about to tell him she needed space to breathe.

“I said…” he began, readying himself to lie. Darcy stared at him, her eyes consuming. He couldn’t do it. “I was going to say…”

He took a deep breath. He felt kind of sick, but excited. Darcy didn’t even blink.

“I have to tell you something,” he said. It was better if he started it all over, and did it right.

Darcy finally blinked. “What is it?”

“I love you.”

Her face changed, and Bucky’s chest went tight at the admission. He’d never said that to a girl before. He’d hardly ever said it to Steve, either. It was a lot to process.

Darcy swallowed. “Bucky, that’s…”

She ducked her head, and Bucky felt sick again. It was too much too soon. She didn’t love him. Of course she didn’t. He was an emotionally stunted man child. It wasn’t her responsibility to make him happy.

Bucky took a deep breath and sat up, looking around for his underwear that was on the floor. He put them on, running his hands through his hair. He needed a cigarette. He needed to leave the room.

“It’s fine, I just – I just wanted to say it,” he blurted, before she could finish her sentence.

She pressed her lips together, nodding.

They slept apart that night, after Bucky took a hot shower, the water turning his legs and stomach red. He couldn’t sleep, and he was sure Darcy couldn’t either. Her breathing was too measured, too deliberate. Maybe she was faking sleep.

The next morning, Bucky dressed and left Darcy in their bed, going to check-out and leave an autograph for one of the cleaner’s kids who was a fan.

He was tired, but that was nothing new. He took a long drag of his cigarette as he waited for Darcy to wake up and dress. He watched cars speed by on the highway, wondering where they were going. People watching was more fun than thinking about his own life.

Darcy burst out of their room, dressed in another one of his white t-shirts and her jeans. She glanced at Bucky sitting on the bonnet of his Buick, and stalked over to him.

“I thought you left,” she said, and Bucky shrugged.

“No.”

“Don’t do that,” she snapped, and then she cringed.

“Do what?”

“I was gonna say, don’t leave me alone in bed, but it’s not… It’s not a big deal,” she muttered.

Why was she acting like this? She sounded hesitant, awkward. She walked over to the passenger’s side and opened her door.

“Oh, we’re leaving?” Bucky said, because he couldn’t help himself. Maybe he was kind of mad.

Darcy glared at him before slipping into the car and slamming her door.

Bucky flicked his cigarette butt away and exhaled, before joining her.

It was ridiculous trying to ignore someone right beside him, the same person whose body he’d memorized. The same person he’d just professed his love to. He was aware that this was like peak asshole for him, ignoring this person just because he could.

He played his own music, blasting it way too loud. He pretended like she wasn’t there, smoking constantly and swearing under his breath at idiots on the road.

Darcy turned her body away from his as far as the small space of her car seat would allow, staring out the window with her sunglasses on.

Again, Bucky was aware that this all made little sense. He couldn’t get enough of her and now they’d entered into this weird world where they couldn’t stand each other but they were still existing. He still believed that she wasn’t about to leave him when they stopped for gas. It was bizarrely comforting, knowing that she wouldn’t hitchhike despite being angry with him.

And then he realized why. He trusted her because he loved her. He watched her return to the car after she grabbed a couple sandwiches with their coffees, slipping into the car beside him. She handed him his coffee.

“Chicken or beef?”

Both looked equally unappealing. Bucky took out another cigarette, lighting it as Darcy waited for his decision.

“I don’t care, you choose,” he said.

Darcy set her jaw, and in that moment Bucky knew he’d fucked up. She lowered the window and threw both sandwiches out onto the asphalt, before raising the window again and glaring straight ahead.

Bucky froze with his cigarette in his mouth.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. He sucked in more nicotine and blew the smoke out the corner of his mouth, his eyes never leaving her.

It took another half a minute before Darcy put her face in her hands.

“Oh, my God,” she wailed. “I’m fucking insane.”

She got out of the car, and retrieved the two sandwiches. People were watching them, and Bucky bit his lip. For whatever reason, he fought the urge to laugh.

Darcy returned, out of breath. She glanced at Bucky before unwrapping one of the sandwiches from its package and taking a bite.

“Didn’t destroy on impact?” Bucky asked.

Darcy snorted, covering her mouth. She swallowed her mouthful, laughing loudly. The chicken sandwich wasn’t as lucky. It looked mashed inside its container.

“Share with me,” Darcy said, but Bucky shook his head.

“The fuck are we eating? Not this shit,” Bucky muttered.

He took off down the road, until they got to the next McDonald’s and ordered chicken nuggets for them both.

They ate in the parking lot in silence. It wasn’t tense anymore.

“I don’t want to say it and not mean it,” Darcy said, and Bucky paused his chewing.

“Uh…”

“Not that I don’t feel the same way,” she added hastily. “I just…”

She rolled her eyes. Bucky felt high with relief. She loved him. Loved him enough to stay, loved him enough to not lie to him.

“I don’t want to bring up my ex, but I couldn’t say that I loved him for a year and a half.” She let out a breath, shaking her head. “It’s like I’m stunted or something.”

Bucky took her hand in his. “You’re not. I swear you’re not.”

Darcy’s throat.

“I do… love you,” she said. “I love you.”

-

They spent the next two days in a whirl of their own pleasure and togetherness. They were their own little world. It wasn’t until they reached California that Bucky’s anxiety returned. He did not miss the L.A. traffic at all. Being in the thick of it once again forced him to address several fears at once.

“You want me to drive you home?” he asked.

Darcy nodded. “Yeah. I should stay there tonight.”

Away from him?

“Okay,” he murmured. He changed lanes, licking his lips.

It was warm. Their collective uniform of white shirt with jeans might have been too much for the heat. Soon she’d be changing into something else, and he’d go home, too.

“Do you want to stay tonight?” she asked, and he glanced at her.

He smiled. “I’d love to.”

He was lovesick, that had to be it. He never smiled like that, ever, just elated that she was letting him be near her after such a long week.

When they arrived at her place, Darcy unlocked the front door and Bucky could smell her everywhere inside. He remembered what it was like the last time he was there weeks ago, and it was so different this time around.

Her bedroom was small, with barely enough room for her bed with its old metal frame. Within an hour of them being there he was gripping the same frame as they moved together. To his surprise, the frame knocked against the wall over and over while he thrust inside her.

Darcy began to laugh at Bucky’s fascinated expression before he caught her in another kiss.

-

Bucky finally went home when Darcy had a meeting with her agent. His maid left him a note, asking he call her when he got back. He felt a bit guilty, since he now had to deal with the people he left behind without any notice.

His fridge was empty, except for beer and some bottles of champagne he got as gifts. He should probably fix that. He was suddenly met with nothing to do, checking his phone to see where Darcy was. It was bizarre, that his role was suddenly the needy one, the one who was so invested.

He didn’t doubt Darcy felt the same way, but she was better at hiding it. To pass the time he went to the gym for the first time in weeks. His performance was shoddy, but he was able to focus on something else apart from what was in his head.

He found himself at home again, watching his phone every few minutes. He put on the news, eating potato chips in silence.

Darcy showed up without notice, but he was so grateful that he tugged her inside to kiss her instead of demanding an explanation.

He carried her into the bedroom and only shucked down his sweatpants low enough to free his cock, pushing aside her panties under her skirt. He fucked her into the mattress, and she was clawing at his arms, barely holding on. He pushed her legs up to his shoulders, and he wasn’t gentle. She was dripping wet, and the way her panties grazed his cock drove him crazy.

It was like she’d been away for weeks, when in truth she’d only been gone for the day. He was going to drink his fill of her now. He didn’t care if he seemed desperate, or addicted, because he was.

She made the most incredible keening sound as she came, her face flushed. She was pure pleasure, and she seemed to keep going for longer. She grabbed at his hair, wriggling under him and panting.

“You okay?” he whispered, and she laughed breathlessly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

Bucky thrust into her harder, grunting as she kept squeezing him. She ran her tongue along his teeth, teasing him.

“I wanna ride you,” she whispered, and Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at her words, hips stalling.

He almost came, and he pulled back from it, just barely. He moved out of her, Darcy’s legs falling down as he lay down. She stood up, pulling down her panties before climbing on top of him.

She settled in his lap, adjusting them so she enveloped him once again.

“Fuck,” he moaned. He was louder than usual. He couldn’t help it. It was hard to find a friction as it was slippery with sweat and arousal, but Darcy was soon circling her hips with her hands pressed to his chest, finding her ideal rhythm.

She dictated the pace; he didn’t dare try to move her for his benefit. He loved her using him like a toy. She felt incredible, and he couldn’t only hold on for so long.

He had no filter, either. He was praising her, babbling on for a while as the sweat dripped onto him.

“How’d I get to so lucky?” he breathed, and then his fingers dug into her ass as he came with a strangled cry. “ _Fu-uck_.”

He felt a new fear. What was he supposed to do now that he had her? How could he ever go on without her? What could she do to him, and what could he do to her?

He wouldn’t be able to move, not for a few minutes at least. When Darcy fell down beside him, panting along with him, she whispered:

“You wanna get dinner?”

-

He called Wanda the next morning, feeling better, feeling okay about where he was. She answered after just a couple rings.

“I didn’t buttdial you,” Bucky began, before he gave her a chance to hang up. “I meant to call.”

“You’re back?” Wanda asked, sounding different. Less upset, less sad or disappointed. She sounded concerned but then relieved. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, I – I drove back,” he said, biting his lip.

He was sitting in his backyard with his feet in the pool. Darcy left early that morning for an audition. He didn’t know if he could talk about her with Wanda. It didn’t feel right without asking first.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About everything. You deserve a better client. I meant what I said about paying you out for the rest of the year.”

“I haven’t told anyone you dropped me,” she replied. “So the offers are still coming in.”

That threw Bucky for a second. “Why? Haven’t they been paying attention?”

He meant the _Variety_ interview. He hadn’t been on the Internet for weeks, just to avoid the full extent of the fallout.

“I think they don’t care, or… maybe they like it,” she said.

Only in this industry. If he was a sous chef and bitched about his boss he’d be out of the job, without a reference.

He rubbed his eyes. “And the studio?”

Wanda paused, which meant it was bad. It had to be bad.

“They sent something,” she said. “A script for a summer shoot.”

“You read it?” Bucky asked. He fished out his cigarettes and lit one, splashing his feet in the process. He lit it and took a drag before Wanda answered him.

“It’s not great.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. He didn’t want to do it, then. “Do you think I should do it?”

He pictured Wanda biting her nails in her office, ruining her black polish.

“No. I think it’s beneath you.”

Bucky sucked in a breath and coughed. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Once his coughing subsided, Bucky glanced around the pool. There was a plane flying overhead.

“So what do I do?”

“I’ll send you a copy, but… maybe you need to see your lawyers about a new contract.”

-

The script was shit. It was barely a script. It surprised him how bad it was, but it didn’t surprise him that the studio thought of him to do it, considering he did _Time Shell_.

Even Darcy read it out of curiosity, and she made faces along the way.

“Oh, God,” she groaned more than once, turning pages. “Bucky… this is so bad.”

“I know,” he said, rubbing his face. They were sitting in his backyard at the time.

“Like, so bad.”

“I know.” He sighed. She met his gaze and he gave a shrug.

It made sense for them both to be working, since he couldn’t be spending his days doing nothing. Darcy passed her audition, and she was set for a few months doing voice work for a web series.

“I’m not gonna do it,” he said in a rush.

Darcy blinked at him. “Okay.”

They hadn’t told the world about them. Bucky was living in a strange constant present state, meaning he wasn’t thinking beyond each day. He didn’t talk about the future yet with Darcy, but he knew he wanted her there. Doing yet another soul-crushing piece of shit movie would make him irritable to say the least.

He sent back the script with the note scrawled in biro:

_Thank you but I don’t like it. Signed, James Barnes._

Wanda called the next day, her voice shaking.

“It’s bad, right?” Bucky said.

“You should turn on your TV. I don’t think my phone call does it justice.”

Bucky was alone. Darcy had gone back to her house to do some laundry, planning to return that night.

Bucky obeyed Wanda, grabbing his remote and flipping through channels to a news outlet, his eyes widening. His own face was staring back at him, the smiling one from the _Variety_ interview.

The news anchor was a peppy blonde woman, relishing in the drama of it all.

“James Barnes could be _sued_ for violating his contract with RKB Studios. The news comes after his explosive interview with Variety magazine last month. His choice to turn down the latest project he was offered may cost him _millions_.”

Oh. _Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)   
>  [The Death of a Marriage Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4UJXVMguNebxtSWbJpgJmf)
> 
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> [These](https://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/post/183735108918) pictures are kind of perfect for Wintershock, imho. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this. <3


	11. Part Eleven: I didn't mean it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance, but I promise I don't make you hurt for fun. I do it because the world can hurt but there's nothing you can't come back from. I tell myself this more often than I wish I had to, but it's the damn truth.

_Yeah, do you ever wonder_  
_What he might be going through on his own?_  
_And the demons that he's facing alone_

\- "After The Storm" by Kali Uchis

  
_...doors left open_  
_(Who are you? Don't do it. Who are you?)_  
_I don't know who I am anymore_

\- "III. Life: The Biggest Troll [Andrew Auernheimer]" by Childish Gambino

 

 

**Part Eleven: I didn't mean it**

 

 

Bucky didn’t remember hanging up on Wanda, but he must have. He turned off his TV, too, because he’s standing outside and there were only sounds of the birds outside and traffic in the distance.

His hands shook as he tried to light another cigarette. He needed a lawyer. Or ten. He hadn’t spoken to any lawyer in months. He couldn’t remember their names, and he can’t remember where Darcy went a few hours ago.

To get her nails done? To work out? Was she working that day?

He finally took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled shakily, trying to figure out what to do. If he was going to be sued, would that mean the end of his career? Would everything just stop and he’d have to be like this all the time, waiting around for something to do?

He sat down on the grass, running his fingers through his hair over and over. He could use a drink, something to dull the climbing anxiety. He couldn’t stop shaking. He smoked through his cigarette and got out another, but he couldn’t get the lighter to spark. He gave up throwing the lighter into the pool, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and gnawing at his lip.

He went back inside to find his phone, only to see it was lit up with notifications. Wanda, Steve, his mom, Darcy.

He called Darcy back first.

“Hey,” he said, and he knew he didn’t sound right.

There was a rustling on Darcy’s end and he could hear that she was probably outside or on the road.

“Are you okay?”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I was at lunch with Carol, remember? I said I’d come straight back.”

There was a bang from beyond, on Bucky’s end, and he jumped. He stalked back inside, making his way through the house to the front door and he pushed aside the curtain.

There were several people gathering at the bottom of his driveway, carrying cameras and microphones.

“Don’t come back here,” Bucky hissed into the phone, squinting at the group loitering near his Buick. He drew in a shaky breath and held it, watching the paparazzi ready themselves.

“Why? What happened?”

“Fuckin’ cameras.”

Who sold him out? His maid? Maybe someone from back home, but who? The cousins that tried to leech off of him were no longer in his life, and that wasn’t his choice.

Could the studio have leaked his address?

“Don’t come back here, baby,” he said, bordering on desperate. He tried to clear his throat, to reel it in, because she didn’t need to be scared by him.

“Okay. Can you make it to mine?”

“For… the party?” Bucky said, trying to remember if it was tonight or tomorrow when he was meeting all Darcy’s friends again, this time as the guy she was dating.

“Baby, you don’t sound okay,” Darcy said. He could picture her biting her lip, furrowing her brows. “I want to come over. Please?”

“No, I’ll meet you at your house tonight. I just – I just –”

He couldn’t think of an excuse, there were more cars pulling up. He needed Wanda, he needed someone to fix this. He knew if he went out there they’d ask questions and get in his face. He hadn’t dealt with paparazzi in weeks, and he was suddenly totally unprepared.

“I need to call my mom.”

He had to warn her, in case she was at the supermarket and somehow someone found her and accosted her. She’d feel so overwhelmed, and Bucky couldn’t stand the idea of people harassing his family.

“Okay, I’ll go home. But _call me_ after you speak to your mom?”

“Okay,” Bucky lied. He had no intention of having this same conversation again, where he had to hear Darcy worry about him over the phone. He’d show up at her party and be the best guest possible.

He rang his mom, and she sounded frightened, but only because one of her friends called her earlier that day because they saw the news online about RKB. Bucky assured her he was fine, and that the studio wasn’t going to sue him, because he hadn’t done anything wrong. He bluffed it, and maybe she could detect his lying, but she let him soothe her regardless.

Then he called Wanda.

“There are cameras practically on my front lawn,” he muttered into the phone, instead of greeting her.

She sounded better than before, more grounded.

“I spoke to a lawyer I want you to meet. The ones that negotiated your contract with the studio were partly influenced by RKB. I think one of them is a brother of a producer there. You need someone else, someone you can trust.”

Bucky watched the paparazzi watch his door. He stalked off toward his kitchen, looking around for a clean glass. His house was a mess, and he still hadn’t called his maid.

“Do you know who gave them my address?”

“I think it might have been RKB. I’ve heard of them doing shit like this before,” Wanda replied.

Bucky poured himself a shot of whiskey and threw it back, feeling the burn down his throat. He hoped that would hit the spot, to make him stop wanting to pace the window while the sun began to set.

“Would they do that to intimidate me?” Bucky asked.

“Most likely.”

“Fuck these people,” he muttered. “The lawyer, what’s his name?”

“Her name is May. May Parker,” Wanda said, and Bucky detected some pride in her tone. “You can meet her whenever you want, she’s very flexible. I told her already what you need and she’s open to looking over your contract without charge.”

“I don’t really care about money,” Bucky blurted, and then he snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I noticed. You wanted to pay me for the rest of the year even though all I got you was Stephen’s movie and the watch campaign –”

“You’re really good,” Bucky interjected. “So… I want to keep paying you. I want to be a client of yours.”

“You’re my _only_ client,” she said.

There was an awkward pause, and Bucky looked outside again, biting his lip. He heard Wanda clear her throat on her end.

“I’ll text you May’s number. Do you want me to book you a hotel?”

“What?”

Wanda made a short laugh of disbelief. “You can’t seriously stay at your house. You’re trending on Twitter right now. You’re all over the TV.”

He wished she hadn’t said that. It made him feel unsafe, knowing there was the whole world out there to judge him and want a piece of him, just because he didn’t want to make another shitty movie.

“Right,” he muttered. “Yeah, I’ll get a hotel room.”

Maybe he should stay at Darcy’s. But then he might never leave.

When he hung up, he glanced outside again, wishing there was some other way to sneak out, like a backway, but his house was small and not built like a fortress. He couldn’t even feel the shot at all, it was like he was in this weird, itchy state and he couldn’t keep still.

He paced some more, before he got out of his sweatpants. He dragged a comb through his hair and stopped, staring at himself. He looked older.

If he noticed he was older when he usually avoided mirrors, even at the gym, then the Internet would have a field day, seeing him so worn out. Washed up. Some washed up asshole actor who never had to grow up, because life was handed to him.

And now he’d pissed off one of the most powerful organizations in the world, and he didn’t have transferable skills. He barely even passed high school.

He had to bite the bullet. He shoved a hat on, and grabbed a few things to shove in his gym bag. Some pills in case someone broke into his house and found his cache of them and sold the pictures to _TMZ_. He left most of his stuff, but made sure he took his father’s old watch, wearing it instead of carrying it in his bag.

He finally went to the front door and opened it, stepping out to see everyone turn and move toward him.

“Get outta my way,” he said, when someone shoved a microphone in his general direction.

“You got a lot of people pissed off, James,” one guy said, camera clicking. “You’re so angry.”

“Yeah, come closer and test that theory,” he snapped, shoving past them toward his Buick.

He unlocked his car and threw his bag in, slamming the door before jumping into the front seat. There was no way he was driving out of there with the top down. Someone might throw something just to get a reaction.

“Move,” he snarled at someone who stood too close to the car door.

He started the engine and began to reverse, glancing over his shoulder.

“You got anything to say about Rachel Hansen’s pregnancy?”

Bucky blanched, not expecting that at all. Rachel was pregnant? That had to be a rumor. She hadn’t even been married three months. He frowned, adjusting his rear-view mirror to pretend he wasn’t affected.

“Rachel’s having Juarez’s kid, James, you hear that?”

Bucky glanced at the paparazzo that yelled at him.

“She sure it’s his?”

 _Asshole._ His regret was immediate, and there was a new spike of anxiety. He didn’t need any more bad press. Rachel had a plethora of shit to draw from in retaliation.

“I’m kidding,” he added. He forced a smile. “I’m happy for her.”

 He backed down his driveway, more questions fired at him, and he tried his best not to reply to any of them, not the fuel a fire. Rachel being stuck in his head among all the shit only made it harder to concentrate while driving.

She was basically a kid when they met, and then he transformed her into a hurt young woman, her whole life ahead of her to try and repair herself for what he did to her and every other girl.

He briefly considered avoiding Darcy’s party, but he knew he had to try. He wanted to. He hadn’t wanted to make an effort with any other person. He knew that was disgusting but maybe there was space to grow.

No-one followed him, and he kept glancing around to see if anyone was watching as he drove through town. He finally got to Darcy’s place and new anxiety rose. Her friends were nice enough the first time he met them, but his first impression was incredibly anti-social.

If anyone mentioned _Time Shell_ , he couldn’t start some argument, no matter how fake they sounded. He couldn’t ruin something Darcy organized. She’d hate him.

He took off his hat when he parked and tried to calm himself with a few rubs of his beard and eyes. He couldn’t smoke indoors, either. He grabbed a stick of nicotine gum from his glove box and then glanced at his duffel bag, remembering his pills.

He disgusted himself. He knew he seemed like an addict, hoarding things just to feel safe. He left the pills and stepped out of his car without his bag, glancing around before walking up to Darcy’s front door. He spat the gum out of his mouth at the last second, despising the taste.

He knocked and half a minute passed before Darcy answered, beaming up at him. She was another person again, the version he often saw when they were in between takes on set. Very friendly and bubbly, flashing her adorable gap-toothed smile.

Her lips were painted blood red and she was undeniably sexy, but Bucky wasn’t sure how to act around her friends – they hadn’t spoken about keeping things private.

He wanted to tell people he was in love. He realized that the second Darcy pulled him into a hug as she kissed his cheek. He remembered her riding him just that morning, looking down at him like they were the only two people in the world.

Being outside of that now felt strange, and kind of scary. He tried to smile back at her, but he was just a ball of nerves. Darcy pulled him in by the hand and led them through to the living room, where people in various stages of their twenties grinned up at him.

Bucky was the oldest one there, and he hated that that bothered him. He gave a short wave to everyone.

“Hi, everybody,” he said, “I’m Bucky.”

A blonde girl got up, and Bucky didn’t recognize her, but she seemed to know him. Did he have sex with her? He always had that thought before meeting someone female.

Rachel was married and having a baby and Bucky was trying to remember where his dick had been, why was his life like this?

“I’m Carol,” she said, offering her hand. “I didn’t make it to Darcy’s last get-together. I was in Vancouver.”

Definitely an actor, she had that air about her. Bucky nodded.

“Hi. I’m –I’m Bucky.”

Everyone else fell back into conversation, though Bucky could feel a distinct change in the atmosphere from what he overheard coming through the front door.

Carol gave a laugh. “How are you holding up? I mean, can I ask that?”

Bucky glanced at Darcy, who’d thrown herself in between two of her friends on the couch. One of them had red hair and was vaguely familiar to Bucky. He would have remembered having sex with a redhead, surely. There were less of them in Hollywood than blondes.

“You can ask that,” Bucky said, hands going to his pockets. He realized he was wearing the uniform from when he ran away. “It’s okay. Some people showed up at my place today, though.”

Carol’s mouth fell open. “What? That’s fucked up. They can’t do that. That’s trespassing.”

“Maybe I should get a guard dog,” Bucky said, shrugging.

Carol looked down at Bucky’s bare hands and then looked at Darcy.

“You’re a terrible hostess. He’s standing here without a drink.”

Darcy made a show of rolling her eyes and Bucky didn’t like it.

“He’s a grown up. He can get his own drink.”

Did he do something wrong? Or maybe he’d misread something? He got the impression Darcy wanted to show him off to her friends tonight.

He blinked, but Carol rolled her eyes.

“Bitch,” she muttered. “I’ll get you a beer.”

Darcy bolted up from her seat, following Carol down the hall to the kitchen.

Bucky was standing around for a minute, wondering if he should pretend to be occupied with his phone. He couldn’t get into the music. It sounded like something people at clubs danced to, and it just wasn’t his style at all. He grimaced as the song changed to something just as bland.

The redhead on the couch stood up, coming toward him and Bucky went still. She was beautiful, but he couldn’t quite figure out –

“Natasha,” he said, remembering. She did stunt work on one of his first ever movies. She was really good, too. She had a reputation for doing outlandish shit very well.

“Bucky,” she replied, giving a vague smile.

He never got past being her acquaintance, though he tried many times. She hoped she shared that with Darcy already, because he didn’t want to talk about it. He was very high whenever he tried to ask for her number. It was one of his stoner phases, his early twenties. Natasha was barely over eighteen at the time and very unimpressed.

“Want to go see about that beer?” Natasha asked, and Bucky nodded.

He followed her out of the living room, feeling a kind of relief. His eyes dipped for a second to glance at her ass. He felt like a creep just the same. They reached Darcy and Carol, who were preparing a tray with shot glasses.

“Tequila,” Darcy said to Bucky, beaming up at him. He slid in behind her, his crotch brushing her ass before he took the space between her and Carol, studying their work.

“I thought there was beer,” he said, glancing at Carol.

Her eyebrows rose. “Oh, I forgot. Ian’s out on a beer run with some of the guys…”

Whatever else she said, Bucky didn’t did hear past the first sentence. Ian. Surely, not Darcy’s –

He glanced at Darcy, whose face had changed to something less joyous. Bucky blinked a couple times. Something must have shown on his face, because Darcy frowned.

“…And can we please play something else? I hate this music,” Carol finished, her voice changed to a low whine. She glanced at Natasha imploringly. “Please, Nat. Back me up.”

“Let’s go find Darcy’s Spotify and change it,” Natasha said, her voice low.

Carol paused, taking in Bucky staring at Darcy before nodding, scurrying after Natasha as they left them alone in the kitchen.

Bucky took a second, leaning against the bench, before taking one of the poured shots and throwing it back.

“I didn’t tell you he’d be here because you’d be hurt,” Darcy said, and Bucky glanced at her.

He laughed wryly. “You should have told me.”

She set her jaw, crossing her arms. He knew he was in trouble then, so he threw back a second shot without blinking.

“I was with him for eight years, Bucky. We’re friends. We grew up together.”

It wasn’t something Bucky could understand, clearly. Every one of his relationships ended badly. In Darcy’s world, people were nicer. People got along.

“You should have told me,” he said again, and he knows he sounded like the asshole he is.

Darcy snatched a shot from the tray and threw it back, and she glared at him.

“Why didn’t you call me back like I asked you to?”

She was trying to deflect, or maybe she was going to tell him about Ian if he called her back. No, that didn’t seem right. She would have told him about Ian if he meant nothing.

“I didn’t want to hear you sounding sad for me on the phone,” he replied, because he wanted her to be honest. He’d have to be honest first, to make it known.

Darcy’s face softened.

“Bucky…”

“Like that,” he said, moving closer to her so their hips bumped, and he touched her face. “I don’t want you sad like that, because of me.”

“I know you’re in trouble right now,” she murmured.

“Wanda’s getting me a lawyer,” Bucky muttered, his thumb tracing her lower lip. “But I can’t stay here, either. I’m suffocating you.”

She blinked a couple times. She didn’t deny it, but she couldn’t seem to think of something to say. Bucky dipped his face toward hers and kissed her, tasting tequila on her tongue as he pushed inside. Darcy was fierce in return, grabbing at his shirt and pressing up against him, and it was like morning again and they were safe and alone.

There was a cheer beyond the kitchen and Darcy drew back.

“That’ll be the beer.”

She glanced at his mouth, and luckily her lipstick was barely smudged. It must be that fancy kind that stuck on longer. It made Bucky want to mess it up all the more, but maybe later when they were alone.

He didn’t ask but he knew he should have – were they boyfriend and girlfriend?

His hands dropped to his sides, no longer touching her, the second he heard footsteps. A man with brown hair walked in with his arms full of a case of beer, smiling at Darcy once he came into view.

“Hiya, we’re back.”

Oh, he was English? Bucky didn’t know what he expected, but he had a nice smile. He hadn’t stalked him online, and he had no idea what his backstory was.

“Hey, man,” he said, coming up to Ian to help him to lift the case onto the bench, Darcy watching them.

“Thank you,” Ian said with a smile. He seemed perfectly normal.

He probably didn’t need the help but Bucky felt like he couldn’t just stand around doing nothing. Darcy waved at Bucky.

“Ian, this is Bucky.”

“Oh,” Ian said, taking Bucky’s hand and shaking it. “I thought it was James.”

“Yeah, technically,” Bucky said, rubbing the back of his head. He hated trying to explain his nickname to new people, because sometimes they said he sounded like a sidekick in a John Wayne movie. “But I’m from Brooklyn, not… Texas or somethin’.”

Ian laughed at that. “I’ve seen a lot of your films, I had no idea Darcy meant you when she said Bucky… I figured you were just James.”

He got out some beers and put them in the freezer, Bucky copying him until it was full. In another twenty minutes or so they’d be cold enough.

Bucky was trying to wrap his head around the fact that Darcy spoke about him with Ian before.

“I haven’t seen _Time Shell_ , though,” Ian added, looking somewhat hesitant to admit it.

“Don’t,” Bucky said, and he snatched a third shot from the tray and threw it back. “It’s a piece of shit.”

Darcy began to laugh, and it was definitely put on, which caused Bucky to stare at her.

“Well, he’s right, I expect,” Ian said, suddenly serious. “I read about you this morning, it’s a terrible business, this contract of yours.”

“Hmm,” Bucky said vaguely, watching Darcy between them, fidgeting. He nodded in her direction, his eyes still locked with Ian’s. “She tell you about Cannes?”

“You’re going to Cannes?” Ian said, pronouncing it in perfect French. Bucky was reminded of how unrefined he was.

Darcy shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “It’s not a sure thing, Stephen’s still busy. He might not finish.”

Bucky remembered taking Strange to the hospital, and how annoyed he was that he had to slow down for his own health. Bucky glanced away. He could feel the liquor working its way through him, making his face hot.

“Anyway, lovely to meet you,” Ian said, because the pause became awkward. He walked out, and the living room erupted in more laughter once he was out of sight.

Darcy closed her eyes and sighed, and Bucky wondered what he’d done now. How he’d already fucked up yet again.

“Say what you’re thinking,” he said. His voice was soft but she still heard him, opening her eyes and frowning at him.

“You’re an actor,” she hissed. “So why can’t you _act normal_ , and not mention things like Cannes to make a point about how close we are?”

Act normal. That stung. It suddenly made sense – she was ashamed of him. She didn’t want people to know she was sleeping with him, though it had to be obvious there was something going on between them.

Bucky passed a hand over his face. He shouldn’t have told her he loved her.

“Bucky –”

He looked at her and saw she was suddenly frantic, trying to touch his arm but he moved away. He regretted the tequila, because now there was no way he could drive.

“Bucky, I’m sorry,” Darcy said, “I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did,” he said, refusing to glance at her as he made to leave. He hated how upset he sounded. He could feel his throat was tighter and he touched his neck with his fingers.

“Bucky, please. Bucky…”

He took off, marching out and slamming the front door behind him. He knew everyone saw, and now they couldn’t deny he was an asshole. The door opened and he looked back to see Natasha stalking after him.

“What the fuck?” he muttered, staring at her as she walked right up to him, crossing her arms.

“You can’t run away every time you feel bad,” she said, and Bucky narrowed his eyes at her.

“I don’t do it so people come after me,” he retorted.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he snapped. He got out his car keys and contemplated how drunk he was. Too drunk. He couldn’t think of what to do.

“Uh-uh,” Natasha said, and she came toward him and snatched the keys from his hand. “I’m the designated driver.”

“Poor you,” Bucky mumbled. He rubbed his face. “I’m not that drunk.”

“Good, keep that in mind for the apology you’ll have to give her tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what you mean, she doesn’t want me here,” Bucky said with a sigh.

He tried to read her face, but like all those years ago, it was still hard to do. Natasha levelled his gaze and blinked twice.

“You mentioned Cannes because of your ego. You don’t like that she’s still friends with Ian. She’s not angry with you about trying to out your relationship.”

It was Bucky’s turn to blink, but he knew he looked less awake, staring blearily back at her.

“You know about -?”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” she deadpanned. “Of course I know about you and her. She went missing for days.”

She pushed past him and unlocked the driver’s side, and Bucky glanced at the sky, wondering what to do.

“I want to go back inside,” he said, and Natasha shook her head.

“You don’t. Everyone saw you leave.”

“Awesome,” he mumbled. He opened the passenger’s side and got in.

-

He woke up in the late morning the next day. Natasha took him to a hotel the night before, taking an Uber back to Darcy’s place.

He didn’t text Darcy, didn’t try to call. He didn’t know what to say, to make it right. Whenever he apologized to someone he was scared they’d throw it back at him, because that’s what usually happened.

So he was a coward, but he needed to do something right that day, so he called May Parker’s office and arranged a meeting that afternoon.

He showered and smoked half a pack of cigarettes but he still managed to make it to the appointment, constantly watching out for someone with a camera. For the first time in years he made a prayer inside his head.

_Dear God, please let this work out. Please, God._

May Parker was gorgeous, and very sweet to him. He was reminded of Darcy’s mom Betty and couldn’t be a warm back, but she didn’t seem offended. She probably dealt with other spoilt actor clients all the time.

“I went over your contract because Wanda kindly sent it through yesterday,” she said, as they sat opposite one another in matching leather couches.

Bucky’s knee jiggled, and he only noticed when May’s eye fell to it, so he stopped.

“Yeah, I… I’m in trouble.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But also, you have the right to turn down a project.”

“But they’ll bully me into it,” Bucky added. He bit his lip.

“If the press showing up at your condo was their doing, which I strongly believe it was, then… yes. They will try to intimidate you into doing the movie.”

Bucky glanced at the ceiling. “Well, fuck, what do I do?”

May pressed her lips together for a moment, considering. She watched him run his hands through his hair.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied immediately.

“You have a lot going on right now. It would be hard for anyone to deal with –”

“Really, I’m fine,” he lied again, forcing himself to keep eye contact and remain still. He could act normal if he tried.

May dropped it, but she didn’t seem convinced. She cleared her throat, touching her long hair that fell over one shoulder, and then she pulled her glasses off her face and placed them on her head.

“I believe that we could safely argue that you are a major asset to RKB Studios, and that you deserve better,” she began. She smiled a little. “It’s incredible, the amount of money your movies have made. You’ve earned them over a billion dollars in the last five years, and you’re their most consistent star.”

“ _Time Shell_ is the worst movie I’ve probably ever seen –“

“Really?” May said. “Because have you seen _Batman and Robin_? Or _Catwoman_?”

She smiled again, and Bucky let out a short laugh.

“You have a massive fan base, and if they lose you, they’ll lose customers.”

“How do I convince them that I’m worth more than what they give me, though?” Bucky said, giving a shrug. “The last decent movie I made was _The Winter Soldier_.”

May shook her head slightly. “Stephen Strange’s movie is meant to be phenomenal. I want to see that movie.”

“Awesome, you’ll be one of a dozen,” Bucky muttered. “Listen, I get why you did this. Wanda’s great, you’re… great.”

May looked surprised by his comment, but beamed at him.

“Oh, you’re so sweet –”

“They’re gonna sue,” Bucky interrupted, and her face fell. “And maybe it’s time for me to just… stop. At least for a while.”

May blinked a few times. “James.”

Bucky got up from his seat, and she copied, looking flustered.

“James is my father. I’m not – I’m not James,” he muttered. He glanced around her office, taking a deep breath before letting it go. “I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

“Let’s just take a couple days, and then we’ll approach the studio with a new contract.”

He turned to leave.

“Bucky.”

He glanced at her, feeling his throat tighten. Wanda must have told her the nickname, or maybe she just fucking Googled it. He wasn’t that special.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’ll make sure.”

He was about to tell her she didn’t know him that well, that things hadn’t been doing okay for a while, but he didn’t know how to get it out. It was stuck on the tip of his tongue.

He swallowed, nodding instead. He put on his sunglasses and left.

-

He drove straight to Strange’s bungalow and knocked on the front door, cigarette between his lips. He owed him a visit.

When the door opened, Bucky’s eyebrows shot up and he lowered his sunglasses. Strange was standing in his Hugh Hefner get up but he had an IV stuck in his arm, as he pushed along a bag hanging from its metal hook.

“What the ever-living fuck are you doing here?” Strange grunted. “I thought you committed career suicide.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly but he smirked. “Thought you had a fuckin’ aneurysm.”

Zero came into view, meowing up at Bucky. He thought of Darcy carrying him and pushed the image aside, following Strange inside.

He pointed at the bag. “The fuck is that?”

“B12,” Strange replied. “You want some?”

“No, thanks,” Bucky said.

They walked through to the living room, which was covered in folders, takeout containers and scrunched up pieces of paper. There was a mock poster of _The Death of a Marriage_ taped to an adjacent wall. It was a shot of the car door from the closing shot of the movie, a wedding band on the ground with blood splatters everywhere.

“I thought it was a little obvious,” Strange said as he spotted Bucky take in the poster. “Somewhat literal. People might think it’s a Tarantino movie.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Bucky said, and Strange gave him a long look before shaking his head.

He swivelled the bag around, the wheels on the contraption squeaking.

“You can help with some voice-over work you blew off when you went to New York,” he said, and Zero circled, sniffing the air. Strange looked down at the cat and nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Zero chirruped and Bucky felt his lips twitch.

“Come with me,” Strange said suddenly, waving a hand. “I have a booth and some lines.”

“You have a booth here?” Bucky said.

“Yes, I make all edits here,” Strange replied, as if it was obvious. “Real _home movies_ , as you Yanks like to call them. Quite… _kitsch_ of me.”

“You limey pricks like our movies.”

They kept throwing jibes at one another before Strange showed him what he meant by _booth_ – one of the bathrooms had been converted into a studio. Apparently the acoustics were ideal.

Bucky felt his phone buzz in his pocket and chose to ignore it. It wouldn’t kill him to focus on the present for once, and Strange seemed happy he was there. Zero tried to follow Bucky but Strange picked him up, scratching behind his ears.

“You need some grunts for sex scenes.”

Bucky began to laugh. “Right. Okay. Just keep it simple.”

“You want to see a cut of it later?” Strange added, and Bucky paused putting on his headphones.

He couldn’t be serious. He heard about Strange being a massive control freak about who got to see anything he made. Usually no-one but him before its world premiere, even if it was a tiny one in some insignificant film festival. But Cannes wasn’t small by any means.

“You’re just fucking with me, right?” Bucky said, and Strange smiled.

“Yes. Anyway. Grunts, please.”

Bucky watched the footage he was dubbing over, placing the headphones over his ears and feeling his phone buzz again. He got up to toss it onto the floor in the hallway and sat down to concentrate, watching the monitor with him laying on top of Darcy.

He felt himself flush but he tried to remember he was being Jack, he needed to keep his mind on the task. He made several grunts and Strange listened with his headphones half on, his IV still in. He made a face when Bucky finished his ten seconds of audio.

“Try to sound less constipated.”

Bucky laughed. “Thanks.”

An hour later, he lit a cigarette in the garden as Zero wandered around, sniffing plants and occasionally chomping on grass.

“He’ll puke if he eats that, right?” Bucky said, and Strange rolled his eyes behind his own sunglasses. He sipped a cup of tea.

“I think he does it to fuck with me,” he muttered.

Bucky’s phone made another buzz and he finally took it out, placing his cigarette between his lips.

There were several messages from Darcy.

_Where are you?_

_Can you call me?_

_Bucky! Call me!_

_What the fuck_

_Is it 911???_

_I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again_

“Shit,” he muttered, throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. He unlocked his phone and dialled Darcy’s number.

She answered immediately. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I was with Stephen, I was doing some V.O.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me where you went?”

She was crying, he could hear it in the wobble of her voice.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’m sorry. Please, baby. I’m sorry.”

He felt his eyes prickle and he tried to clear his throat.

“Bucky, I can’t do this.”

He set his jaw, letting her speak because he’d frozen in place, Zero twisting between his legs on the grass.

“You told me you loved me but you run away and you don’t want to tell the truth.”

“I’m fucked up,” he said.

She sighed. “I want to continue this conversation later.”

“No, I want to talk now,” Bucky said, though he didn’t. He just felt panic rise in his chest and he was floundering. “I’m fucked up and I’m sorry.”

“That’s too fucking easy for you. It means you don’t have to change if you use that excuse every time.”

He closed his eyes. She was right.

“Darcy –”

“I don’t want to say the rest of this over the phone. I’ll meet you somewhere.”

Bucky told her to go to the end of Strange’s street. He lived in a gated community, so the only people around were his neighbors. Bucky waited in his car and Darcy was dropped off by her Uber. He watched her recognize his car and then walk over.

She looked upset. She slipped into the passenger seat and turned to him.

“I think we need some time to think.”

She sounded wrecked, like she’d been crying for a while. Her eyes were red, her nose was running. She sniffled, touching her nose with a sleeve before swallowing.

She glanced up at him into his eyes and he felt her cut him to the bone.

“You mean, a break?” he whispered, and she nodded.

They fell silent. Bucky didn’t want to move but he knew he had to. He had to do something to convince her she was making a mistake –

Except she wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t good enough for her. She deserved someone who’d fight for her, treat her right.

Darcy went to grab his hand but Bucky recoiled.

“Please don’t touch me.”

Darcy shot her hand back like she’d been burnt, and she sucked in a breath. She ducked out of the car without another word and Bucky watched her go, walk up the street toward Strange’s place. He had no idea how long she’d be there. It wasn’t his business anymore.

He didn’t want love, if it felt like this. He looked at his lap and sniffed. He wiped his eyes, starting the car.

-

He drank alone at a bar, his hat on. It was the fancier one that kept nobodies away, so Bucky was assured that he was relatively safe.

He only had one drink, sipping it occasionally. There was football on TV but he couldn’t have the shapes of men running back and forth across the screen make any sense in his head. It was like he wasn’t really there. He could see himself from a bird’s-eye view, drinking in sullen silence.

There was a tap on his arm and he turned his head slightly.

It was Lucy again, smirking.

“Hello, you.”

He didn’t return her smile at all. He blinked at her.

“What do you want?”

She scowled. “Oh. Good to know you’re consistent.”

Bucky didn’t answer that, turning back to his drink. She tapped his arm again but he refused to acknowledge her. She seemed to go away, because she stopped trying to invade his personal space, but then Bucky felt a stronger grip on his shoulder and he attempted to shrug it off.

“You bothering this woman?”

He spun around, seeing Lucy standing beside a bodybuilder of some kind, glaring his beady eyes at him.

“Are you… are you fucking serious?” Bucky said, laughing at the absurdity of it.

“Come on, fucker. Outside.”

Bucky glanced at Lucy, laughing again.

“What do you think happened? I was sitting here and she –”

“ _I’m_ here with her,” the guy grunted, crossing his massive arms. Lucy smiled.

“Oh, good for you,” Bucky said. “I didn’t touch her.”

He decided to leave, taking out a couple notes and throwing them on the bar.

He left, feeling the bodybuilder’s eyes follow him out the door. The bouncer yelled after him and Bucky turned, only to be socked in the face.

The guy must have worn a ring, because something split and there was blood in Bucky’s eyes.

He stumbled, falling to the ground on his knees. The night spun around him. The bouncer was coming over, but the bodybuilder was quicker.

Bucky dodged, glad he bothered to actually remember fight sequences when he did them. If only he had a knife, and then he could properly defend himself, because the guy had about fifty or so pounds more on him than he did.

He glanced at Lucy, who was watching from behind, looking surprised. She probably didn’t think this through.

“Hey, man, just let it go,” Bucky said, and the bodybuilder unexpectedly kicked his leg before punching him again.

Bucky stumbled once more, trying to remember where his car was. Somewhere over the road.

He didn’t look back, and then Lucy screamed.

There was a smack to Bucky’s side and he fell to the ground.

-

He felt hands, and someone saying his birth name over and over.

“James. Mister Barnes, can you open your eyes?”

Bucky blinked, trying to make sense of where he was, but everything blurred. He squinted up at the light that shone in his eyes.

“Mister Barnes, you were hit by a car. Please don’t attempt to move –”

More hands to stop him from sitting up. The world was coming back, and he could smell something sterile. Hospital. There was the familiar beeps of monitors, the feel of gloves on his skin.

“James –”

“Bucky,” he rasped, and a few faces came into view.

There was a tug above his eyebrow, someone making a stitch on his forehead. He winced, feeling like his limbs were lead.

“I’m Bucky.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title for this part: Women try to help Bucky
> 
>  [The Death of a Marriage Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170838034/playlist/4UJXVMguNebxtSWbJpgJmf?si=5JLuz2ifRpemkPAKNmGPlA)
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	12. Part Twelve: I'm here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is long (7k words) and confronting. **If you are sensitive to triggering material that includes mentions of suicidal ideation and self-harm, please consider skipping this part.** If you want, you can message me [here](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/ask</a>here</a>%20and%20I%20can%20give%20you%20a%20brief%20summary%20of%20this%20chapter.%20<b>Remember%20that%20you%20are%20not%20alone</b>,%20and%20if%20you%20are%20experiencing%20distress%20there%20is%20a%20comprehensive%20list%20<a%20href=) if you need someone to speak to.

_But I thought this wouldn't hurt a lot_  
_I guess not_

\- "Kids" by MGMT

 

 

**Part Twelve: I'm here**

 

 

The faces were still blurry and Bucky couldn’t fix on one of them no matter hard he tried. He felt himself frown in concentration but it hurt.

“Ow,” he hissed, feeling pain like a throbbing headache. Everything twisted with tension, but he couldn’t feel the needle threading through his skin.

He screwed up his face, feeling something like a sob bubble up and he tried to lay still, seeing blobs looming over still.

“Bucky,” someone said. “I’ll write that down on your chart. We think you have a concussion.”

“Don’t overwhelm him,” another voice scolded, and Bucky winced. He tried to cover his eyes with his hands. Something bumped and he felt the IV stuck on the back of his left hand.

He woke an hour or so later to a nurse checking his vitals. She explained the first few hours were critical. Bucky knew all that from his father’s own death years ago. He had a cerebral haemorrhage caused by the fall when he was struck by a car. It happened faster than what was happening with Bucky now, or at least it felt that way. He didn’t want to think about the irony of the situation because even laughing bitterly would make his head hurt too much.

He knew he was fucked up. Pieces were missing, and he threw up twice. He asked for his dad’s watch, which he was wearing last time he checked. The nurse said it was in a safe with his other valuables. People were being called, people were finding out what happened.

Bucky tried his hardest to hide away, to try to sleep, but the constant beeping kept him awake. Last time he was in hospital was after he broke a finger on set years and years ago, but then he’d been coherent. He could barely keep his eyes open, now. He was exhausted just from breathing.

“Bucky.”

He was startled awake, Wanda at the foot of his hospital bed. Or, a blob shaped like Wanda, until she came closer. Her eyes scanned his face, and Bucky thought of her dead brother. She had to hate hospitals, too. Bucky thought of the ambulance taking his unconscious father away, the screaming sirens than went on and on.

He was blinking back tears and Wanda’s lips parted, her hand touching his shoulder. He was wearing a hospital gown under the blankets.

“I called Steve. He called your mom.”

Did someone call Darcy? Did she know because of Steve, or because of the news?

“I tried to squash it, but the news got out. Some intern connected dots and told _TMZ_ you were here,” Wanda added, her speech too fast for Bucky’s liking. “Can you remember what happened?”

“I got in a fight,” Bucky mumbled, and his voice was rough. It hurt to even move his lips, to form the words in his head. “I didn’t start it, but I tried to… stop it. Tried to get to my car.”

“Okay,” Wanda said. “The woman who called the ambulance was afraid you did that deliberately.”

“What,” Bucky grunted. He tried to shake his head but it was a bad idea. He blinked slowly.

“Did you try to hurt yourself?” Wanda asked, her voice pointed. Bucky saw that her nails on her hand still touching him were bitten down, the deep maroon polish ruined.

“No,” Bucky replied slowly. “I was stupid. Went into the street without lookin’.”

Wanda just kept staring at him, her hand steady. Bucky felt his throat tighten, wishing he was asleep. He hated the way she looked, so full of concern and worry.

“’S’okay.”

“You nearly died,” Wanda said.

The thought had occurred to him but having someone else actually say it out loud was another thing entirely, the weight of it finally enough to make him afraid, remembering the blood in his eyes before he surged into the road.

He moved to pull back his blanket. His hands were cut up, probably from when he was first punched during the fight.

“What do I …look like?” he mumbled, and Wanda looked taken aback. “I wanna see.”

“You look like you’ve been hit by a car,” she replied.

He tried to hoist his legs over the side of the bed and grunted. He was surprised nothing was broken.

Wanda tried to push him back into bed but Bucky was stronger despite the pain and moved out from under her grasp and carefully stood up, clutching the IV’s metal stand.

He slowly moved across the floor of his room, seeing the bathroom door ajar in the corner and he went toward it with the agility of a tortoise, Wanda following him and touching his elbow. Thank God he couldn’t feel the breeze on his bare ass, the gown was tied tight enough that Wanda didn’t have to have an eyeful of his nakedness. He shivered just the same, missing underwear.

He saw his reflection and flinched. Wanda was right. He was a wreck. There was a plaster on his forehead and a deep bruise under one eye, already yellowing under the fluorescent light of the bathroom.

“Excuse me,” came a voice, and Bucky turned toward the sound as fast as he could, which only caused another spike of pain across the front of his skull and he winced.

Wanda became apologetic as a nurse steered Bucky back into bed, tucking him in and checking his vitals once more.

“Do you have any more visitors that will be a nuisance?” the nurse said, and Wanda’s mouth fell open.

“She’s my… agent,” Bucky mumbled, the word escaping him for a few seconds. “She’s all I’ve… got.”

The nurse and Wanda exchanged a glance.

“Should we have a crisis team come here?” the nurse asked Wanda, like Bucky wasn’t there.

Wanda seemed to lose all speech for several moments, gaping at her while Bucky did his best to not cuss at anyone. Everything was too confusing, too slow. It was like slow dripping molasses, slow like the liquid dripping into him.

“For a psychiatric assessment?” Wanda finally said, her voice strange.

Bucky blinked several times and the nurse looked at him, frowning.

“Maybe in a couple days when he’s feeling a bit better.”

“How long do I have to… stay?” Bucky mumbled, and the nurse pressed her lips together.

“The doctors will tell you later today.”

The thought of him having to stay here much longer made him sad and Bucky glanced at the ceiling as his eyes filled with tears.

“I think he’s still in shock,” Wanda said, and the nurse nodded.

“He’s not well by any means.”

Bucky woke later and it was dark. Wanda was gone. He squinted in the dark. Sleep seemed to help him a little bit, but so did the lack of light. There was still the incessant beeping, but his head hurt less than before. He pressed a button for a nurse and he waited.

It was a different one. There must have been a change-over while he was sleeping. He couldn’t place the woman, so maybe she was new.

“Mister Barnes, do you need something to drink?”

“I need to take a piss,” he said, feeling his face flush. He passed a hand over his eyes and then scratched his beard, avoiding the nurse’s eyes. “Also, I want to make a phone call.”

The nurse helped him out of bed but he insisted on privacy. It hurt and he grunted, looking down at the bruises that littered his body. Again he found it hard to believe that he had no broken bones. He felt as useless as a child, the door slightly open in case he suddenly collapsed. He was handed his cell phone, which was fully charged with a cracked screen.

He saw texts from Steve, explaining his mom wanted to visit and that when he was ready he should call her. There was one from Darcy but he deleted it without looking. He saw the ‘baby’ on the first line and his heartrate picked up. He could hear it on the monitor as he sat up in bed.

He texted Steve and Wanda, asking them not to let anyone else come here to visit. He didn’t want visitors. He told them he wasn’t rested enough, when in truth he just didn’t have the resolve to go through anyone else looking at him the way Wanda did earlier that day.

He went back to sleep. He slept on and off for another day. When he thought it was safe to maybe sneak out, a new face with a clipboard came in. It was a guy in his late thirties or early forties with a soft stomach and a neat beard. His eyes seemed soft, and Bucky was immediately suspicious.

He tried to assure himself that he was at a private hospital with very strict security for the sake of confidentiality and safety. He hadn’t looked at the news yet but he’d received a few bouquets from people in the industry. There was an air of concern that made Bucky want to jump out of his window, and the second the man began to tell him why he was visiting Bucky felt his stomach drop.

“One of your doctors wanted me to ask you some questions concerning your mental health.”

Bucky swallowed. “I didn’t walk in front of that car on purpose.”

He sounded like he was lying, but the man just smiled. “Well, I’m glad. I’m sorry you were still hurt, of course. Being in hospital can be very distressing –”

“My dad was in hospital, okay? So don’t segue into asking me why I seem agitated here,” Bucky snapped, because he didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to have to explain himself. It was better if he didn’t, and he couldn’t stand the idea of having some stranger probe him.

“What happened to your father, if I may ask?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “He died. He got hit by a car.”

“I’m so sorry…”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Tell whoever sent for you that I’m not that talkative today. I’m not in the mood.”

The man didn’t seem disturbed at all by Bucky’s reluctance. His eyebrows rose but he nodded.

“Fair enough.”

Bucky glared at him, refusing to speak.

“Are you likely to want to talk about your mood to someone else, if I give you a card -?”

“Fuck off,” Bucky snapped, crossing his arms.

“Right.”

The man left a card on Bucky’s bedside table anyway, and he left. Bucky let out the breath he was holding and he glanced down at the number. It seemed real enough. The whole thing might have been a ruse for some website, some asshole who’d do anything for a click.

Bucky looked down at his IV still in his hand. He took a deep breath, peeling back the tape and pulling out the needle. It stung, but it wasn’t as bad as the rest of his pain. He had a different threshold now, and he wasn’t going to waste another minute in his bed.

He swung his legs over his bed and listened out for anyone who could walk in to check on him. He looked around for his phone and picked it up, checking its battery. He could have an Uber there in five minutes if he managed to sneak out. He really fucking hated hospitals, and he knew they had his other stuff, like his wallet and keys.

And pants.

He cursed under his breath, trying to think. He could duck into a nurse’s station and try to figure out where his valuables were, and try and find some scrubs. There were staff everywhere and he needed to be careful. If they saw him being erratic then he might be transferred to a less desirable ward, one with bars.

He was getting ahead of himself, but the guy from before threw him off completely. The last time he spoke to a shrink was after his dad died. He was acting out at school and there was a lot of hand-flapping from the teachers and his mom didn’t know what to do. Bucky didn’t like to remember that time at all. He was a little shit back then, which was surprising to no-one.

He was staring at his phone for too long, because a nurse was suddenly standing over him, her eyes wide.

“I took the thing out,” he said.

She frowned. “I can see that.”

“I wanna leave.”

“You can be discharged later today if the doctors think –”

“No,” Bucky said firmly. He stood up, and he was thankfully taller than her. “I wanna leave now.”

He’d moved past child to teenager, defiant and annoying as shit. The nurse blinked at him.

“Mister Barnes.”

“I’m leaving. Now,” he said. “So go get my things so I can leave.”

He tried to sound threatening but she’d probably heard it all before from other petulant assholes in L.A. Bucky knew he was rarely like this, but he considered this special circumstances, and he could actually act. He was acting like he was entitled to leaving if he wanted to because he was who he was, and not because some doctor said he could.

“ _Now_.”

Her cheeks flushed and she departed, and Bucky felt his shoulders slack automatically. He left within another ten minutes. A doctor supervised him, saying his car had been moved to his hotel by Wanda yesterday. Bucky arranged an Uber and thanked the doctor for his service.

The doctor just shook his head at him, astounded that this was happening. He muttered something about procedure but Bucky ignored him, pushing the brim of his cap down further.

“You’ll need to go out the back way,” he added, and Bucky’s heart sank. “Just in case there’s someone hanging around.”

Someone or a bunch of someones with cameras and loud voices. Bucky reeled at the idea of it, and the doctor caught his gaze once more as they exited the elevator together.

“Are you sure you want to leave?”

“Yes,” Bucky snapped. He wanted to get back to his hotel and try to collect himself. He wasn’t able to do that at the hospital. He obviously hadn’t been able to at the bar the other night.

He managed to get into the Uber without a hassle, until the driver made it understood he knew Bucky was actually James Barnes.

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars to drop me off at the Hilton,” Bucky said.

The driver was grateful, talking on and on about all the movies of his he’d seen, and how he didn’t look so bad for a guy who’d been in hospital. Bucky tuned him out and he got the message, falling silent.

The thousand dollars was transferred when Bucky got inside the hotel, the car speeding off. No cameras, but the hotel security nodded at Bucky expectantly as he came in. He knew this place was a fortress, an ideal hiding place.

The second his room door shut behind him, Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. He was still in pain, but he wasn’t going to have that problem much longer.

He raided the minibar, eating a Snickers before he threw back two Xanax with a shot of bourbon. He switched on his TV, kicking off his boots. He was told he had to be cut out of the clothes he was in when he arrived at the hospital, so he wore a plain t-shirt and some sweatpants, but he pulled off everything to slip into bed.

Sleeping naked alone didn’t feel as good as he hoped. It made him think of Darcy immediately, how she’d roll over to kiss him or stroke his shaft and he’d be hard in seconds, like he couldn’t ever stop wanting her.

He knew he was sad, but he’d been pushing it back for hours because of the panic of being in the hospital and trying to get strong enough to leave. He had a concussion but he was fine now, just bruised.

He was groggy when he woke, popping another pill to push away consciousness. That was his limit. More time fell away and he buried himself further into the blankets.

His dreams came in bursts. They were scattered with memories. He saw himself and Steve together ripping open a packet of Pokémon cards. He gave Steve his holographic card, but he couldn’t make out the character on the front. He couldn’t remember the finer details, just the feeling of trying to do something nice for Steve. He remembered the clawing anxiety that one day his friend might turn around and say he didn’t want to be around him anymore even though he was an orphan.

His father giving him a kiss on the cheek that smelled of cigarettes, his beard scratching Bucky’s skin but in a pleasant, familiar way. He missed that. Bucky’s dad faded away and he was in bed with Darcy, her face so close to his that her two eyes became one.

He jolted awake, needing to piss. He stumbled to the bathroom and came back out, rubbing his face. There was a knock on his door, and he had no idea how long he’d been standing there.

“Housekeeping!”

“Go away!” he called. The poor woman. She didn’t say anything else so she must have gone away.

He took a bath, trying to remember the last time he had one. Darcy said she loved her tub but that she never used it. He hated that he remembered that.

He thought he’d feel relaxed but he felt tight in his chest, and the warm water went cold faster than he expected. He remembered his phone and got out of the bath without towelling himself off, padding into the bedroom to check it.

He didn’t want to phone anyone back but he couldn’t muster the courage to tell them that, either. He just stared at the notifications and felt a churn in his stomach.

He needed to eat but didn’t feel like it. He smoked instead, watching basketball on TV in bed. It was hard to follow. He could have sworn he knew the rules. He drank some more bourbon and contemplated another pill.

Why was he saving them? No-one was there to stop him from using them. No-one knew how much he had. He took a long drag of his cigarette, holding it until he was uncomfortable. He always felt kind of guilty about taking drugs. But he didn’t have to. He could get away with it easily enough. He had for years. He glanced at the pill bottle beside his glass, seeing someone else’s name on the label.

Every time he resurfaced he had to deal with feelings, those same feelings that were always threatening debilitating crying. Every single time he had to come back. He didn’t have to be guilty now, or sorry. He was alone.

There was no-one to stop him. He tipped the open bottle, pills scattering. He counted more than fifty. And he had more.

How many did he need?

How many would it take?

He blinked, staring at the little white bars. They looked like cells, splitting and splitting and splitting as he stared. He swallowed, aware his throat was empty.

He thought of Steve in Brooklyn when he showed up. How he described how he felt:

_Things got weird._

His fingers shook as he picked up one of the pills, pressing it to his tongue. He got up, walking into the bathroom to get a handful of water from the faucet. He gulped, and he blinked at the man staring back at him.

So fucking tired. Black and blue and tired and alone.

He’d wait five minutes. He’d wait and then decide if he wanted more. He walked back into the bedroom and lay on the bed, the TV blaring some commercial in the background.

Just background noise. His world was that room.

He lost more time, waking up with a voice from the TV. The voice was too familiar and he squinted toward the screen, seeing a rerun of one of his own movies. It was like a cruel joke, a reminder that his life was nothing like the stories he was a part of. He waited, seeing his younger self saunter into one scene. He was about to kiss a woman Bucky had a fling with in real life.

Another girl way too young and way too nice for him. He looked back at the pills on the bedside table, and he bit his lip. He took another minute to glance at the TV, and saw himself spank the girl’s ass. He looked so carefree up there.

He gathered all the pills and put them back in the bottle.

He got out some more liquor from the bar, putting two mini bottles of Smirnoff into a glass and drank it fast. He changed the channel, going back to smoking while sports played on a loop. Soon he’d run out of cigarettes and he’d have to ring room service, but he hated the idea of someone seeing the state of his room. He procrastinated until he was drunk again. He saw his cell phone had died and he used the landline to call downstairs.

He was surprised they managed to make any sense of what he said, but someone came up in five minutes with a carton of Marlboro Reds and a slice of pizza.

He smoked and ate in silence, aware the time was somewhere between midnight and four A.M. He needed to sleep eventually.

It occurred to him that he’d lost track of what day it was. The urgency swept over him as he remembered Cannes. He couldn’t go to that now. Too many people, too many eyes to stare and assess him, to find him lacking in talent or basic human decency.

He passed out. He must have, because he was awoken later with insistent banging coming from the door beyond the bedroom. He screwed up his face, trying to make sense of the swimming space around him.

More knocking. He yelled for them to come back later. He spied the landline beside the pills and remembered he’d taken it off the hook.

“Bucky! Please.”

He broke out in a sweat almost instantaneously, because he had to be hearing things. The voice sounded like Darcy’s, and the banging didn’t stop. He managed to grab his boxers and sweatpants and pulled them on, preparing himself to yell at the cleaning lady to leave him alone.

As he walked to the front door, another voice called out.

“Mister Barnes, we’re concerned. We were not able to reach you earlier today.”

What was the time? Bucky couldn’t distinguish anything from the room around him, because he kept the curtains drawn and the lights were still on.

“Don’t – Don’t come in.”

He staggered back toward the bedroom, his mind going to the pills. The knocking continued and the thought occurred to him that they were knocking for politeness’ sake. They’d have something to get in. He moved into the bathroom, pills spilling on the floor when he dropped a bottle. He scooped them up, throwing them in the toilet.

He began to flush them as there was footsteps behind him, and he stood up, freezing.

Darcy was there, with the concierge, two security guards and a pair of paramedics. She looked white, moving toward him as Bucky backed into the sink.

“I didn’t take anything.”

He was looking at the ceiling, avoiding Darcy’s gaze. She cornered him, her hands going to the sides of his face.

“Bucky. Bucky, look at me.”

He whimpered, feeling the tears flooding his eyes.

“Bucky, look at me.”

He dared to dip his eyes to hers and he let out a shaky breath.

“It’s okay. I’m here, okay?” she stroked his hair with one hand. It felt so good his chest ached from her touch and he closed his eyes for second to steady himself.

He began to weep, covering his face with a shaking hand while Darcy kept stroking, murmuring over and over:

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

He sank to the floor and Darcy followed him, wrapping her arms around his bare skin and holding him against her while he shook with sobs. He buried himself into her neck and felt each new roll of despair. He’d been sleeping for days and he was still so tired.

He could have stopped this sooner. He heard the paramedics taking note of the empty bottles on the floor, the few pills he’d missed that were scattered on the tiles.

When he thought he’d stopped crying, he only started up again, remembering Darcy was the one holding him. Beautiful, soft, warm Darcy. She smelt so good and familiar. She felt like home and it hurt to know that, hurt deep in his chest.

He let out a shuddering breath.

She knew everything now. That wasn’t fair – not so much to him, but to her. He told her more than once that it wasn’t her job to make him happy.

“Bucky, they want to examine you,” Darcy murmured, and Bucky felt himself grimace.

He finally pulled away from her, wiping snot from his face and feeling like he’d been rubbed raw. He remained sitting on the tiles as the paramedic asked some questions, their partner taking notes.

The concierge and security guards gave them some privacy, hanging around just in case, while Bucky held Darcy’s hand.

“Are you having any suicidal thoughts? Do you want to hurt yourself?”

Bucky gulped. “Uh. Kind of.”

He sniffed.

The paramedic with the clipboard nodded. “Okay, I think we should go to the nearest hospital.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, realizing his mistake. “No, please. Not the hospital.”

“We need to assess you there,” the other paramedic said.

“Please,” Bucky said, his chest heaving. “Please. I don’t want to get locked up somewhere.”

Darcy murmured in his ear: “They won’t do that. They just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I won’t hurt myself. I’m not gonna hurt anyone else,” Bucky babbled. “Please. I’m fine.”

“You got anymore pills at home?”

“He won’t go home, he’ll stay with me,” Darcy said, and Bucky felt warm in his stomach, despite everything else.

The paramedics exchanged a look. One of them shook their head.

“If we let you go, you might not be able to keep him from running off,” the other one said to Darcy.

Darcy suddenly glared at them.

“He’s staying with me. We can get non-emergency transport to take us to my place.”

They considered this. Bucky looked at them imploringly, while Darcy didn’t back down.

One of the paramedics gave a short sigh. “Okay. We will send someone to assess the situation later tonight.”

Bucky walked out of the bathroom, led by Darcy still holding his hand. They packed his things, each of them only using one hand so it took longer. They only parted so Bucky could pull on a shirt before Darcy threaded her fingers through his.

“Ready?” she murmured, and he nodded.

They walked out, managing to take the one elevator downstairs once the concierge got the confirmation that the other ambulance was waiting for them.

Bucky was scared. He felt like there was no return from this, there was no way to wipe it clean. He wanted to turn back the clock to last night and keep the phone on the hook. He needed to make sure everyone knew it was a massive mistake.

He didn’t stop holding Darcy’s hand, and he didn’t let himself wonder too much about them, because in all likelihood he’d scared the shit out of her and he’d been incredibly unfair.

They arrived at Darcy’s house and she unlocked the front door, giving the ambulance a wave before they slipped inside.

Bucky fidgeted, loitering in her hallway while Darcy took off her shoes. She stooped, untying the laces of Bucky’s boots before staring back up at him, waiting.

“Bath?” she said, and Bucky blinked. “You could use one.”

He supposed he stank. His hair felt kind of gross. He nodded, stepping out of his shoes. She took him by the hand and led them through the house to her bathroom. She busied herself with the water temperature while Bucky sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the floor.

“How did you find me?” he murmured, and Darcy crouched beside him while the water ran, licking her lips.

“Wanda panicked, called Steve. He called me. She told us where you were staying. I called the front desk, made them try to call you. They couldn’t get through. You hadn’t answered your cell for a couple days.”

Bucky nodded, feeling another wave coming over him. They were still broken up. He glanced at the ceiling, listening to the water fill the tub. He didn’t say anything else so Darcy didn’t force it, and once she turned off the faucet, she glanced at him, expectant.

“There you go.”

“Please don’t leave.”

He said that part out loud, and Darcy’s face softened.

“Okay.”

He stood up while Darcy still crouched by the bath. He pulled off his clothes, beginning to cry again. Less force than before but he still felt lightheaded from it as he sank into the water.

Darcy stroked his hair for a minute before she stood up, going to open her shower and retrieve some body wash. She went to a drawer under the sink and brought out a fresh washcloth.

Bucky cried silently as Darcy dipped the wash cloth in the water, making sure it was soaked before she started to rub his shoulders with it. She used the body wash to make a nice lather and cleaned him.

No-one had done this for Bucky before. Then again, he never cried in front of people unless he was in-character. He wasn’t himself. Not that he knew what that meant, anyway. She finished washing his chest and back, before moving to dab at his face.

He smiled weakly at her, tears still in his eyes. She got the shampoo and washed his hair. She even helped him lay back to rinse his hair. Eventually she handed him a towel and he got out, drying himself as she let out the plug.

“I had a shower this morning,” she said, before he could ask. She watched him wrap the towel around his middle. “You want something to eat?”

He shook his head, but Darcy didn’t respond badly.

“What about a bagel with cream cheese? Toast?”

“Toast is fine,” he mumbled. Bucky redressed in his dirty shirt and sweatpants.

He managed a few bites of food with a mug of herbal tea she made. She sat with him, holding his hand on the table between them. There was a knock on her door and Darcy got up to answer it. It took Bucky a few seconds to remember the crisis team were expected. He swallowed the rest of his tea and waited.

A woman with a small smile walked in behind Darcy, some papers in her hands.

“Hello. Sorry to interrupt dinner,” she murmured. “You must be Bucky.”

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Sarah.”

Sarah was a common name but it always made Bucky think of Steve’s mother. He nodded, swallowing a couple times to bring himself back to Darcy’s kitchen table.

Darcy sat beside him, touching his hand.

“Sarah’s gonna ask some questions, do you want me to stay?”

Bucky thought about it for a few seconds. “No.”

Darcy nodded. She didn’t seem offended. She glanced at Sarah, getting up from her chair.

“I’ll be down the hall changing the sheets in my room if you need anything.”

Sarah nodded.

Once Darcy left, Bucky’s face felt hot. This stranger was supposed to hear everything going on in his head. He pushed aside his plate and began to jog his knee beneath the table.

“Do you want to talk about today, what led up to it?” She spoke in a soft murmur. She made a face. “That’s a silly way to phrase it, but – can you tell me about today and the paramedics?”

“I was staying at the Hilton,” Bucky began, clearing his throat a couple times to get the sentence right. “I stopped answering my phone, I took the other one off the hook. I scared Darcy a lot.”

“Darcy’s your girlfriend, yes?” Sarah said, her pen poised.

Bucky let out a half-laugh. He shook his head. “I don’t… think so.”

“Sorry,” Sarah said. “So… tell me why you were at the hotel.”

Bucky blinked. “I couldn’t go home with the paparazzi outside my house. I didn’t want to stay at the hospital.”

“You discharged yourself against… the recommendation of your doctors,” Sarah said, flipping through a few papers. “Doctor Mitchell was the one who saw you leave last week.”

“How many days was I at the Hilton?” Bucky blurted.

“Six.”

His eyes widened. “I was at the Hilton for six days?”

“You were unaware?” Sarah said.

“I was _high_ ,” Bucky retorted.

“I was about to ask about the pills,” Sarah added. “But back to what you were feeling when you arrived at the hotel.”

“I didn’t feel good being at the hospital anymore. Didn’t feel right.”

“Didn’t feel safe?” Sarah said, back to writing in a form.

Bucky stared too long at her pen and Sarah stopped writing, looking up.

“This is confidential.”

“I have… the feeling that people would pay a lot for what you’re writing down right now,” Bucky said, biting his lip. “Like, a lot.”

“Are you ashamed of your mental illness?” Sarah said.

The shock must have shown on Bucky’s face, because she immediately added:

“I was under the impression that there was meant to be an assessment when you were in hospital.”

“I told the guy to fuck off,” Bucky said. He said it sharper than he expected, and pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “I just… didn’t speak to him.”

“You don’t like to talk about feelings, Bucky,” Sarah said. She hadn’t lost patience.

“No,” he murmured, looking at the table.

“Why?”

“Because it’s all bad,” he said. He knew he sounded like a child. It was a child’s answer with little logic. “Whether I tell the truth or keep it inside. Someone still gets hurt.”

“You’re hurting.”

“ _Yeah,_ ” he said, and then his eyes filled with tears. It was so sudden it stung and he frowned, feeling them spill over.

“Bucky, do you want to hurt yourself? Have you ever thought about suicide?”

Who didn’t think about killing themselves every once in a while? That’s what bothered Bucky about the question. When things were exhausting, didn’t people think it would be easier to just make it go away by ceasing to exist?

“Yeah,” he said. His voice wobbled.

“Any attempts?” Sarah asked.

“No, but very close,” Bucky said.

“Describe what _very close_ means to you.”

Bucky gave a wet laugh, his knee starting up again.

“Uh… last night, when I had about a hundred pills in my room and my bags.”

Sarah nodded in his peripheral vision. He glanced at her again, to see her eyes were soft and understanding.

“What types of pills?”

“Xanax, Adderall, Vicodin, Excedrin,” he recited them all, remembering more as he went. “Oxycontin… and I think I had some cough syrup, too, so Nyquil.”

Sarah wrote them all down.

“Percocet,” he added. “And… molly. I think I had some molly, too.”

When she stopped writing she looked up again and Bucky shrugged.

“I only use Xanax, mostly. I had them all ‘cause I kept them at my house and figured it was better to have them with me than not.”

“Were you planning to overdose with Xanax?”

Bucky swallowed. “Yeah.”

“And you were drinking?”

He nodded. “But sometimes I don’t drink at all. Sometimes I can go weeks without anything.”

“So what happened the last couple of weeks?” Sarah asked.

“You’ve seen the news,” Bucky said.

“Were you high when you got hit by that car?” Sarah asked.

“No.”

“Are you high right now?”

Bucky paused, sniffing. “I don’t think so.”

He could use a cigarette. He glanced behind at Darcy’s little backyard where he used to go out because he knew it was too gross to smoke inside.

“I’m gonna smoke,” he said. He patted his leg and didn’t feel a pack. He got up from his chair and Sarah watched him walk around, eventually finding them next to his boots in the hallway. He forgot they were out there.

Sarah followed him outside and he lit up, the burst of nicotine so welcome. He took a few steady drags while Sarah watched him.

“Bucky, do you want to hurt yourself?”

“No,” he said. “I just want to make the shit stop.”

He’d never said that out loud before.

“What do you mean?”

“My dad, the press. The fuckin’ internet, my family worrying about me, the fuckin…” his voice trailed off. He took another drag and Sarah nodded.

“The pain. Are you in pain a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it feel like anything makes it go away?” Sarah asked.

Bucky glanced at her, frowning. “You mean besides Xanax?”

“Like… sex for example? Or shopping?” Sarah said.

“I’m not an addict,” Bucky said instantly. He knew that made him sound like an addict straight away.

“I’m asking if you act on impulse.”

Bucky took a deep drag then, flicking ash on the ground.

“Yeah.”

“How do you -?”

“I fuck around,” he said, locking eyes with her to see if she’d react. “I fuck anything that moves. I just fuck.”

He knew he was at Darcy’s house. He knew she was certain about making him stay, but she was the exception.

“Xanax is for when I’m lonely,” he added.

“You’re always lonely?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah.”

He lit another cigarette, glancing up at the sky to see the stars were obscured as always.

“Do you ever have mood swings? Do your emotions feel… kind of overwhelming?”

“You think I have bipolar disorder?” he asked, instead of answering her question.

Sarah shook her head. “I’m not meant to be diagnosing you, Bucky.”

“Come on,” he said, feeling a stir of another sob. “You think I’m bipolar?”

“No. I would say it’s something else.”

“Like what?”

She shook her head again. “I… can’t say it with certainty, but you don’t have bipolar disorder. I think you need to see another professional about this as soon as you’re able.”

He blinked at her. Sarah looked down at her notes.

“I will forward on my assessment to the hospital, and I’ll send you a few clinicians you can choose from.”

“A shrink?”

“A psychologist,” she amended. “Yes. And a psychiatrist.”

He wanted to throw it back at her, tell her she was wrong, that he just had his head up his ass. He was immature, he just needed to suck it up and stop the pills and answer his phone when people called.

Sarah just gave him another small smile, understanding. He finished his cigarette as she went inside, and Darcy came into view, chatting to her. She was handed a card, Sarah’s finger pointing out a particular number in case of an emergency.

Sarah turned to give Bucky a small wave and Darcy walked her to the door. Bucky sat down in the grass, rubbing his face.

Darcy came outside, standing over him.

“You want to come inside?”

“I might go to bed,” he said.

Darcy led him into her bedroom, a toothbrush sitting on the clean sheets for him.

“It’s new,” she said. She gestured toward the bedroom door. “I’m gonna take the couch. You want the door shut or open?”

“Open,” Bucky felt himself say.

Darcy gave a small smile. “If you need me.”

She walked out, and Bucky could hear her moving around in the kitchen, and he took the toothbrush into the en suite bathroom and brushed his teeth. He used mouthwash, trying to find things to do before inevitably lying down.

Darcy had put his phone on a charger and it sat face down on her side of the bed. He turned off the lights and listened out for Darcy, hearing her put things away.

He took off his shirt and slipped into bed. He felt exhausted but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. He didn’t close his eyes, just stared at the ceiling in the semi-dark, listening to Darcy beyond.

He should wait. He should close his eyes. He should –

He pulled back the blankets, feet landing on the floor. He padded out into the hall, walking into the living room to see Darcy sitting on the couch with her blanket on the other side, unfolded. She was reading Harry Potter.

“You okay?” she asked.

Bucky nodded, and then he took the few steps to reach her. He leaned down, the book between them as his lips pressed against hers. Darcy made a small sound against his mouth and returned the kiss, her eyes fluttering shut. Their mouths slanted together and Bucky manoeuvred them so his hips were pressed into hers, Darcy's book falling to the floor.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop.”

He drew back, seeing Darcy’s eyes were wide, her cheeks pink. She shook her head, kissing him this time, her tongue in his mouth. His cock came to life, blood rushing through him as they kissed like they were starved.

His hands fell between them, moving back to pull at the waistband of Darcy’s leggings, tugging the material down. He felt dizzy with want, kissing down her neck while he shoved down her panties.

He sank to the floor, pulling everything down so she was bare to him. Clothes were thrown aside as he put her leg over his shoulder, bending to run his tongue along her.

Her gasp rang in his ears and he lapped at her, watching her face. Their eyes locked and he went for it while Darcy’s chest heaved. She gripped the edge of the couch to stay grounded, her whimpers the only sound apart from Bucky’s tongue. He nudged her clit with his nose, teasing before finally running up one side and down the other like she liked.

Her heel pressed into his back as she gasped urgently:

“Fuck, I’m coming, I’m _coming_ …”

She was wet against his tongue and Bucky didn’t waste a drop, while he saw her twitch between her legs, panting above him. Her hand came to rest on his head and he knew he had to stop.

He moved up, shucking his sweatpants and boxers down and lining them up. He delayed sinking into her, their eye contact never breaking. He gasped just the same, pressing his forehead to hers. He moved slow, taking deep strokes.

She felt so good. She wasn’t supposed to feel this good. Fuck, he loved her so much. He closed his eyes finally, moaning.

They didn’t speak, just moved together. Bucky did most of the work but Darcy still made little breathy sounds, still was so responsive while he fucked her slow and hard into the couch. He gripped her ass as he rutted, their kisses clumsy and desperate.

He could feel his orgasm building, like a tug beneath his navel. His balls were tighter. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and he moaned louder.

He opened his eyes and immediately knew it was a mistake. Darcy was staring back at him with the same intensity. Why did he want this? It wasn’t just because he was horny.

Fuck, he needed her, didn’t he? The realization hit him and he whimpered, feeling his eyes sting with fresh tears.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Darcy whispered, kissing him again with their eyes open. “I’m here.”

Her muscles were tightening around him, she was close. He knew he was, too, and it was going to hit him like… hit him like a speeding car.

“Fuck,” he grunted, closing his eyes as tears spilled over, falling on Darcy’s shirt. He tried to focus on the wetness between them. He slipped a hand down to tease her clit and Darcy sucked in a breath.

He couldn’t be closer to her if he tried, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. He wanted to be deep inside her forever, climbing inside her heart in the warmth of it and safe.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please.”

 _Please come for me._ Darcy squeezed around him, shuddering. Bucky managed a few more thrusts before he crashed – his fingers biting into her ass while her clit throbbed beneath his other thumb. He kept rocking his hips, feeling wrung out.

He panted, trying to draw back but Darcy kept her arms locked around him, her foot pressed into his ass.

“Stay.”

“Darcy,” he warned, but he met her gaze, feeling weaker. He was crying again.

“I’m here,” she whispered.

He nodded, desperate to believe her.

“I’m here.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been Bucky, and I found writing this to be very therapeutic. It made me think about how much things can change when you do take offered help. I know this part doesn't really answer a lot of questions like... what happens next but we needed this to happen overall.
> 
> Unfortunately I will be away for most of next week, but I hope I can return with plenty more after I mull the next few chapters over. I LOVE YOU. 
> 
> Edit: I'm sorry that this was riddled with errors. The majority of my writing is un-beta'd. I tried to tidy up. HOWEVER, Bucky referring to himself as "bipolar" was definitely deliberate, as he has a limited understanding of mental illnesses and did not make the proper distinction of saying he "had" bipolar disorder (the second time, when he pushed Sarah to answer his question). 
> 
>  
> 
> [The Death of a Marriage Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170838034/playlist/4UJXVMguNebxtSWbJpgJmf?)  
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr,com)


	13. Part Thirteen: Bad shit

_I can feel it too_  
_So what am I waiting for?_  
_I'm afraid of you_  
_It's just I'm not that good of a person_  
_But I might be enough for you_

\- "Serotonia" by Highly Suspect

 

 

**Part Thirteen: Bad shit**

 

 

Bucky had never cried during sex, and he’d never cried straight after sex, either. Now he’d done both that night. He thought he’d run out of tears, but it kept going, on and off through the night.

He was sure Darcy slept just as bad as him. She curled herself around him in her bed, occasionally rubbing his arm to soothe him.

Around dawn, Bucky slipped out of bed. Darcy hands had left him sometime in between fleeting sleep and he watched her chest rise and fall from his spot by the bed. He padded out into the hall and found his pack of cigarettes on a table by the backdoor.

The city was quieter outside than before. He listened to the traffic while he smoked, sitting on the ground. He wished he had Xanax, or something stronger, something that would knock him out for a few weeks. He could begin a metamorphosis, sleep being his cocoon. Then he’d be better for Darcy, and she would be able to sleep better, not be held back.

His eyes were sore from crying. His chest hurt like someone huge had stepped on him. He sniffled. He tried to think of whatever was triggering the crying spells, the urge to keep weeping until he was sick with it. He knew he was sad, he was depressed. He still thought maybe there was some way to think his way out of it.

And then Darcy opened the backdoor and stepped out, lowering herself to wrap her arms around him. He was crying again, silent and accepting it. He was relieved in a way, because he didn’t have to lie to her about how he felt. He wasn’t okay. He knew that.

“You coming back to bed?” she murmured into his hair.

“I won’t sleep.”

“I don’t think I will, either,” she replied, moving back to give him a half-smile.

Bucky shook his head a little, glancing at the ground. “I don’t want you to… fuck me because I’m sad.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “You think that’s what happened last night?”

Bucky’s throat bobbed and he frowned. “I dunno.”

He didn’t really think last night through. He’d just opened up to Sarah and he couldn’t stand being alone. He was in love. He hoped Darcy still was. If she wasn’t, he couldn’t stand knowing it.

That might actually kill him.

“Hey.” Darcy caught his chin, forcing him to look her in the eye. She looked fierce. “You told me to tell you to stop, and I didn’t want to stop. You wanted me and I wanted you.”

Bucky pressed his lips together. It was like trying to stare into the sun. He wanted to look away, to hide. He was scared of her.

Why was he scared of her? Because she knew him?

Because she loved him?

“Fuck,” he gasped, feeling another wave of tears come over him, and he dissolved into a sob, Darcy clutching at him.

He just felt so fucking weak. What did he have to be sorry about? 

-

It got worse.

The sun rays hitting Bucky’s arm around midmorning made him wanted to bury himself under the covers, to sleep the daylight away. The sun was an affront. _Look at how normal and good everything is_ , it seemed to scream. He wanted nothing to do with it.

Darcy got up, wandering into the kitchen to make coffee and start cooking breakfast. Bucky kept his eyes closed, trying to drift off again but she was too loud. She was a constant reminder that there was a world outside those walls of her bedroom.

When she returned to entice him to get up, he kept still, feigning sleep.

“Bucky,” she murmured, and they both knew he was pretending, but she didn’t whine. Maybe how accepting she was of him acting like a teenager was worse.

She eventually left him to eat her breakfast, only to come back with coffee. She placed a mug on the bedside table and Bucky could smell the brew. He relented, opening his eyes and glancing at Darcy beside him.

She was scrolling through her phone, her glasses on and Bucky rubbed his eyes, sitting up. She was going through emails, frowning a little.

“What’s up?”

“My stylist Michelle was sending over options for Cannes,” Darcy murmured.

Bucky let that sink in as he picked up his cup of coffee, draining it in a few gulps. Darcy was already thinking ahead to the film festival while he cried all over the place. He sucked in a breath, wanting a cigarette.

“I don’t really want to go,” Darcy added, which surprised him. She looked at him, taking off her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“You should go,” Bucky said, looking away. He set his empty cup down. “You wanted to. It’ll be good for you.”

“I don’t really care about that stuff anymore, Buck,” she whispered, her voice sounding husky with tears for the first time. “Not after last night.”

He blinked, his eyes focused on his hands.

“I can’t fake a smile right now,” she added. “It just feels sick to me, pretending like you’re not… you’re not in pain. People will ask me about dumb shit. I’ll bite someone’s head off.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to hers. “Don’t do that because of me. Don’t throw away this on me. I don’t deserve that.”

Darcy opened her mouth to say something else but he pressed on.

“I’ve made too many mistakes, and I’m not going to make more with you.” He let out a shaky laugh. “I’m hating myself because you won’t admit I hurt you. I’ve put you through everything.”

He looked down at his hands again.

“It happens every time.”

“What does?” Darcy asked. Her voice was wrecked.

“I hurt everyone all the time. I’m not a good person, and I don’t want you skipping Cannes because I can’t get my head out of my ass –”

“Are you _fucking kidding me_?” Darcy snapped, and Bucky looked back at her, seeing her fierce again like before. “Don’t do that. I’m a big girl.”

“Darcy –”

“Stop it,” she said, closing her eyes. “You can’t even hear yourself right now. You lost your dad when you were little, you moved across the country to start over, you felt used by the studio… you broke up with your girlfriend after _Time Shell_ , you were threatened by the studio. I broke up with you… you _got hit by a car_.”

Having it all said aloud made Bucky want to hide again. People had been through worse. She failed to mention that he had more money than sense to comfort himself with.

“You looking after me, it ain’t fair,” he retorted.

Darcy let out a sob, throwing her phone aside to move toward him, bringing one of his hands up to her lips to kiss his knuckles.

“Bucky, I want to be there for you,” she said. “I made a huge mistake.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, gnawing his lip.

“The pills,” Darcy began, and his eyes flew open. “Were you going to… take them all? I wondered because you weren’t answering your phone and you didn’t want visitors… if you were planning to -?”

“Darce,” he whispered. “Don’t ask me that.”

“Was it because of me?” she blurted. “I mean, I know not everything is about me. That’s a fucking stupid thing to ask, but –”

“Kind of,” he admitted.

They sat in silence for a while as Darcy processed everything, tears falling. She kept squeezing his hand, shaking her head.

“That’s fucked up,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I just was fine with… not being alive anymore if things turned out that way,” he said.

Darcy nodded. “And now?”

He thought of her going to Cannes without him, moving on with her life. She would be better without him to hold her back.

“I don’t know.” His words came out in a rush.

Darcy nodded once more. “Sarah left numbers to call. I think you should.”

“Okay,” he said. The thought of actually doing that was terrifying.

“Could you do that, for me?” Darcy added.

His heart began to hammer. He squeezed her hand, nodding.

“I’ll go today. While you go see your stylist.”

“No, I’ll go with you,” Darcy replied. “You call, I’ll sit with you.”

Bucky obliged, only after he went through a few more cigarettes outside. The list of reputable therapists and psychiatrists Sarah sent was intimidating. Bucky pointed at a random number and dialled it, Darcy giving his hand encouraging squeezes.

A receptionist asked if it was an emergency and Bucky momentarily lost for words, wondering how to answer her question. He passed the phone to Darcy, who then relayed the situation, that Bucky was someone who needed privacy and support. They got a call back from a therapist and they said Bucky could come in two hours from then.

Bucky had two hours to get his shit together, and he began to formulate whatever he needed to tell her to convince her things weren’t so bad, but by the time he and Darcy got ready to leave her place and make their way to the Hollywood office he lost all motivation to twist reality. He was an actor but maybe he needed to retire from lying in his personal life. There needed to be a distinction between the two.

When they sat in the waiting room Bucky had his hat and sunglasses on, and for a second he convinced himself that it was a set-up, that Sarah was somehow part of a group RKB put together and they were about to blackmail him. And then another actor came out of one of the offices, and they weren’t from RKB.

Their name rhymed with _Shmowen Shmilson_ and he walked out without glancing Bucky’s way. Darcy’s eyes were bulging.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Cool, cool, cool.”

It wouldn’t matter if Martin Scorsese or the ghost of Paul Newman wandered in, Bucky was so nervous he thought he might throw up. He got up like he’d been electrocuted when a woman came in with a welcoming wave of her arm, saying his birth name.

He glanced back at Darcy, who nodded at him.

“I’ll be waiting right here.”

She wasn’t coming in with him, and he was glad she didn’t invite herself. He just nodded, before turning to follow the woman down the corridor to her office.

She gestured to a chair opposite hers and he sat down, taking off his hat and glasses, scrubbing his fingers through his hair as he looked around.

She had a painting of a sunset on one wall, with the view of the Hollywood sign outside her window. He didn’t even remember her name, and had to check the name on one of her PhDs.

“I’m Betty Ross, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, giving him another smile.

It didn’t seem fake. Bucky had a sixth sense for fake smiles.

“What brings you here today, James?” she asked, and then she watched him wince at the name. “Unless you’d rather be called Bucky. Sarah from the crisis team wrote it in a margin.”

“She call you?” Bucky asked, and Betty blinked.

“I called her the second you made an appointment,” she replied. “I don’t usually get new clients, unless they’re from Sarah. I’m harder to find.”

Bucky nodded. That seemed unusual.

“You want to be called Bucky?” she asked, and he nodded again. “So what brings you here?”

“You write down much when you spoke to Sarah?” Bucky asked. He knew he was deflecting, but she was letting him for the time being.

“She said you declined going to the hospital, and that you were experiencing a lot of stress,” Betty said, hands up. “And we don’t disclose anything else, because it’s unethical.”

“Didn’t realize people in this town still had ethics,” Bucky muttered.

He wanted a cigarette but knew it was out of the question. He felt around in his jeans pocket for his nicotine gum, looked down at it before putting it away once more.

“I, uh, came here because I’m scaring people,” he said. “And I keep crying. Like, before yesterday I hadn’t cried in months. Probably years.”

Betty nodded, understanding. “So what happened yesterday?”

“I thought about killing myself,” he said. “Kind of still want to.”

Betty sat back for a second, considering his words. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to hospital?”

“And what? Sit with a bunch of strangers and talk about how I feel, when I’ve got nothing to be sad about?” Bucky muttered, looking at the generic sunset painting. He narrowed his eyes at it. “I get why I’m here but I don’t get how any of it’s supposed to help. The studio’s probably gonna sue me. I’ll never work again. I’ve avoided the news because I’m sure it’s all bad.”

Betty looked away for a second.

“Unless you know something I don’t?” Bucky said, and Betty licked her lips.

“Bucky, I think your idea of a mental health facility is distinctly different from the truth,” she said, and he let out a breath of a laugh.

“It’ll get out somehow that I’m there, and then… it’s over, it’s fucking over for me,” he said. He rolled his tongue for a second, trying to find the right words.

“Why?” Betty asked.

“It’s like…” he felt his throat tighten, and he touched it with shaking fingers. “It’s like I’m drowning and I was waving before, and people bought it. But now if they know I’m like this they’ll see I’m drowning.”

He swallowed a couple times.

“And maybe they won’t want to save me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Betty said immediately. “Your friend in the waiting room? She cares.”

“I don’t want her to,” Bucky said, feeling tears well in his eyes. He let them fall without stopping. “Because I’ve never loved someone as much as I love her, and I’m gonna fuck it up.”

“I don’t think so,” Betty murmured. She handed him a box of tissues and he took one, twisting it in his hands instead of using it. “You are doing so much even coming here to talk to someone. You are very brave for wanting to try.”

“I’m doing it for her, Darcy,” Bucky said, tilting his head toward the closed door. “I just hope she doesn’t try to pick me over her career.”

“Has she indicated that she would?” Betty asked, and Bucky shook his head.

“Not exactly, but we were meant to go to Cannes in ten days, and then my… meltdown happened,” Bucky said. He sniffed. “She said she can’t stand the idea of pretending that did happen in front of the cameras.”

“You love her?” Betty asked, though he’d just said it.

“Yeah, badly,” he replied. “She loves me, and I don’t understand why. I don’t like me. I hate… me.”

“Do you know why?” Betty asked.

He shook his head. “I’m just… not a good person. I’m really selfish. And… empty.”

Betty nodded. She glanced away.

“Do you have problems with drugs or alcohol?”

Bucky blinked. “We’re into this now, huh?”

Betty smiled. “See, you're actually quite funny. Yes, I’m getting into that.”

Bucky listed off his pills that he hoarded, telling Betty why they were there and how he got them. He told her about the binge in the hotel room and how he was drawn to the Xanax.

“Why do you take Xanax?”

“For sleep, to make me tired enough to stop… thinking.”

“Thinking what?”

Bucky shrugged. “Bad shit.”

He never sounded less eloquent in his life but Betty nodded at him, understanding. She cleared her throat, leaning back in her seat once more.

“Can you tell me what you were like as a kid?”

“I was a little shit,” Bucky said, and Betty smiled at his choice of words. “Always fighting, fucking around, so fucking annoying.”

“You were a kid,” Betty interjected. “Kids play.”

“I don’t think I was playing, I was screaming for attention. I liked having all my friends, all the girls I could run after.”

“Where’d you grow up?” Betty asked.

“I thought my accent was obvious, it usually annoys the shit out of directors,” Bucky quipped, feeling his lips tug at his lame joke.

Betty only smiled again. “Brooklyn, then.”

“Yeah.”

He suddenly thought of Steve and felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t spoken to him days, and he had to be worried. His mom would be, too.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking about home,” Bucky muttered, rubbing his eyes. “They… don’t fucking need this from me.”

“They’re your family, they’re always going to worry, even when you’re doing well,” Betty said, her voice soft. “When did you move here?”

“Seventeen, dropped out of high school,” Bucky said.

He was an entirely different person back then. He couldn’t picture himself that way anymore, though there was plenty of photo evidence, namely the horrible headshots he still had from back then.

“Left everyone,” he mumbled.

“Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“No, but,” Bucky bit his lip. “Steve. He’s like my brother. I told him my master plan and he freaked out, wanting me to stay with him, try acting near home. He’s a graphic designer. Does illustrations, has a few graphic novels published. I… didn’t stay. Obviously.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Wanted to be fucking famous, didn’t I?” Bucky muttered more to himself than Betty. He couldn’t relate to that kid he was, because his motivations were completely switched.

He wanted to disappear. He’d give anything to not have one more person ever speak about him online ever again. If only he could have a clean slate. But he lived in the real world, the one that hurt him over and over, and he couldn’t start over.

“I’m kinda angry,” he said, the thought out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Why?”

“’Cause there are people that I’d leave behind if I did kill myself,” he said. “I wish I was alone so I wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else. I wish I could just be that selfish.”

“It’s not entirely selfish when people contemplate suicide, Bucky,” Betty said. “They’re usually in a desperate state and can’t see any other way out. Do you feel like that?”

Bucky frowned. “No, just… I dunno. It just feels like the best years are behind me. I should have done something better with my life.”

Betty let out a breath like she was floored by his comment. “You’re only in your thirties.”

Bucky bit his lip. “Yeah.”

He fell silent, sighing. Betty thought for a few moments before she cleared the air.

“Bucky, Sarah shared something with me.”

“What?” he said, wondering what it was. He didn’t really give a shit.

“Your father died when you were young.”

“Yeah.”

“And maybe…” Betty waited for him to make eye contact before she went on. “She thought there may be a diagnosis.”

Bucky felt his jaw set and he forced himself to not scowl at her. He had no idea where that come from. He was all over the place, as usual.

“She said it wasn’t bipolar,” he muttered.

“No, I’d agree with her,” Betty said.

She paused again, clearing her throat.

“Bucky, have you ever heard of borderline personality disorder?”

It was like the walls were closing in on him as he scanned his brain for something recognisable, something hopeful, something that didn’t sound so fucking terrifying.

“I… don’t know,” he managed to reply.

“The name doesn’t quite fit, and a lot of people in my profession would rather it was called something else,” Betty went on. “It’s essentially a cluster of symptoms in response to complex trauma.”

“Isn’t that, like, PTSD?” Bucky said. He knew that one. Soldiers and rape survivors got that. Steve had PTSD from when he lost his mom and he couldn’t sleep for months when he moved in with Bucky and his mom when they were teenagers.

“It affects your interpersonal relationships, your sense of self,” Betty said. “Your impulsivity.”

Bucky wanted to argue with her, tell her he would show her exactly how he wasn’t that way, tell her she didn’t know a fucking thing about him.

Instead, he just swallowed and nodded.

-

Michelle was sweet, smiling at Bucky like she knew who he was but she kept a safe distance. He sat on her couch while Darcy walked in and out to twirl in front of some mirrors.

Michelle would then clap or make little humming sounds of approval. Bucky tried to be present but he kept having the same three words swirling around and around in his head, clogging everything else.

Borderline. Personality. Disorder.

It felt like a horrible secret that he would blurt out at Darcy later, begging her to forgive him for being diagnosable and completely fucked up.

Darcy wore a red off the shoulder dress that caught Bucky’s eye and he’d give her a thumbs-up, but he could see she was seeing through his façade.

As they left, Darcy’s arms full with her chosen dresses, Bucky thought of going back to his house, missing his car.

“Your Buick’s with Wanda,” Darcy said, as they took another Uber back to her house.

He made a non-committal sound and Darcy rose her eyebrows at him.

“You okay?”

He didn’t answer her question until they were at home again, the door to the world shut behind them. Darcy put her clothes away, joining Bucky on the couch.

“Dr. Ross said I’ve got borderline personality disorder,” he said, and he watched Darcy take it in.

She nodded. “Did she diagnose you officially? Doesn’t that take some time?”

Bucky looked at the ceiling. “After she said it she explained all the symptoms to me.”

“And?”

“You only need to have five of the nine to be diagnosed.”

Darcy blinked. “Right.”

“I have most of them. More than five,” Bucky admitted. He briefly put his face in his hands. “Fuck, I didn’t actually want to make this about me.”

“You just came to a boring fucking fitting with me, no other guy I’ve known has ever done that,” Darcy retorted. “And you didn’t even smoke the whole time. Didn’t even try to sneak one outside.”

She gave him a small smile. Bucky tried to mirror it but it felt wrong.

“I haven’t told you today that I love you,” she said. “I only said it once. But I love you. I love you no matter what.”

“Please don’t say that,” Bucky said, sighing. He felt the urge to cry. “Please, Darce.”

“It’s true,” she added, her voice smaller.

They sat for ten or so minutes, Darcy stroking his hair.

“You’re scared, huh?” she murmured, and Bucky bit his quivering lip.

“Yeah.”

He had another appointment already booked for next month, because he now had a new goal. He needed to keep it together long enough to make it to Cannes and come back in one piece.

“I love you,” he said, locking eyes with Darcy once again. “So much. I’m ridiculously fucking lucky. I said something to Dr. Ross you should know.”

“What?” Darcy whispered.

He rose a finger to touch her chest above her heart, feeling his own chest squeeze.

“I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you.”

Her eyes shone at his words.

“Bucky…”

“And no matter what, even if we just be friends, I want you in my life. I want to pay you back for everything, for –”

She cut him off with a kiss, her hands going to tug at his hair. She was possessive, tongue pushing between his lips as she climbed into his lap.

When she finally pulled away, breathless, his hands rested on her hips. He panted against her lips, and Darcy swallowed.

“I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you, either,” she whispered. “Fuck, I thought I was broken.”

“You’re not.”

“I heard about Stephen’s movie and I lost my fucking mind when I found out it was with you,” she added. She looked relieved at the admission. “And then you were so kind to me, so open. We were so good together.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “So I want to go to Cannes.”

“What?” she said, her eyes widening. “Really? You don’t have to.”

“I want to be your advocate, Darce,” he murmured, kissing her face, moving down her jawline and to her neck.

He felt her shiver against him and he sank his teeth into her skin, making her gasp.

“You better fuck me right now,” she whispered. He chuckled into her skin. He was exhausted from all the emotions from his day but he felt drunk, one of his hands going to the front of her leggings and she rocked against him.

She drew him into another greedy kiss and she took his hand to shove it down her leggings to reach her cunt and he grunted against her lips, feeling how wet and ready she already was.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “ _Darcy_.”

She moved off of him, only to pull down her leggings and kick them off, while Bucky quickly pulled down his jeans and underwear to his ankles.

She climbed on top of him, and he sucked in a breath as she took hold of his cock, aiming it upwards.

“You can still bail out,” he grunted, and Darcy gave a wicked smile.

“Not a chance,” she replied, and she sank onto him.

She was shaking all over as she began to rock. She was so tight and wet Bucky had to focus on something else to distract him enough to not come too fast.

“How are we not sick of this already?” Darcy panted.

“You want to keep at it until we do?” Bucky fired back, his voice rough. He kissed her chest, nipping at her tits before going back to assault her throat with lips, teeth and tongue, all the while Darcy rode him as the sweat gathered between them.

“Think we ever will?” Darcy gasped, as Bucky went to play with her swollen clit.

“Fuck no,” he whispered.

She was so beautiful, and like the sun she gave him life, gave him warmth and shone all over. When she came, she gasped his name, nails digging into his arms.

There was no way she was coming just the once. And this wasn’t going to be the only fuck of the night. He rocked up into her, feeling the wetness between them.

“Fuck – I –” she moaned, overwhelmed. “I love you so much.”

He loved her like this, pliant and wrecked. She was much looser, her eyes hooded, her whole body drowsy with lust.

“Come for me again? Please?” he whispered, latching herself onto her nipple.

She chuckled. “Well, since you asked so nicely –”

He gathered her in his arms, turning them so they were on the floor, Darcy beneath him. He kicked off one of his jean legs to have more room to move, and Darcy gasped. She could feel the full force of him as he rutted against her, his mouth on her neck. He knew he was close.

“Fuck me really hard. Fuck me –”

She gasped as he obliged. She’d be sore tomorrow, she’d be walking differently. The thought alone brought him closer to the edge.

He played with her clit again and she crumbled, clamping down on him as Bucky never faltered, not until the last second when he came with Darcy’s nails digging into his back, her heel against his ass.

She peppered his face with kisses as he came down.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, too, baby,” he whispered back, holding her to him as they panted together on the floor.

After a few minutes, Bucky lay on his back and Darcy placed her head on his chest. He was about to ask her if they could have a shower together, when Darcy reached down to stroke him back to life.

He began to laugh, and Darcy joined him.

 

 

               

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: SO MANY errors in this. Hopefully I got them all. Sorry to anyone confused by my dumbassery. When I posted this I immediately went to bed so for several hours things sat there... being wrong. Thanks for your patience! ♡
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to acaseofthemondays for sending me the recommendation for "Serotonia" by Highly Suspect. I must have listen to this... fifteen times today? It fits Bucky so perfectly. PLEASE listen to the song. I'll post about it more tomorrow on [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com)
> 
> oh hey Chellacat, I wanted to name a character after you, so... there you go. Surprise!
> 
> Also, Owen Wilson was nearly Ben Affleck until I remembered I like Owen Wilson way more.
> 
>  
> 
> [“Okay,” she murmured. “Cool, cool, cool.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDcbpFimUc8)


	14. Part Fourteen: We thought we knew you, James Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is close to 10k words. I have no real excuse for this, apparently I am trying to fry my brain at this point. I take a two week break from WIPs and I go way overboard. I am dealing with post-Endgame blues by writing my AU. 
> 
> I wrote 23 pages in two days. Let me live. I feel delicate. 
> 
> PLEASE ignore any errors. I have frantically tried to catch them all but I always miss some. I will get to those eventually.
> 
> I love you, thank you for reading.

_Can you see the beauty inside of me?_  
_What happened to the beauty I had inside of me?_

\- "City of Blinding Lights" by U2

 

 

**Part Fourteen: We thought we knew you, James Barnes**

 

 

The next few days go by too fast for Bucky’s liking. He understood now that when he was anxious, time seemed to never be on his side.

He was cuddling Darcy in her bed and then he was suddenly at his condo for the first time in weeks, packing for Cannes. He knew he could pay someone else to do this, but he didn’t want people touching his stuff. He’d reached a new level of awkwardness. He felt like people could sense how fucked up he was on the inside.

Darcy was the only one he’d told about the diagnosis. Steve would know eventually, he just didn’t have the resolve to tell him just yet. Wanda knew he was seeing a therapist, and his mom finally spoke to him a couple days ago about the hospital. It sounded as if she wanted to ask him more, but she was too scared to. He just hoped she didn’t think he stepped in front of that car on purpose.

He didn’t know where to start with his suitcase. He needed shirts, a couple suits. Swimming trunks, underwear, toothbrush and other things. He decided to keep the beard but trimmed it, making it neater. His bruises were gone from the accident but he still had a mark on his brow from where that bodybuilder punched him with his ring.

He got the stitches out that afternoon, when a nurse visited his condo. The paparazzi had been warned not to approach the house or his vehicle. Bucky was tempted more than ever to just board the whole place up, jump a fence and never come back.

The press were talking about him every day. Every story was pulled from some friend of a friend or an acquaintance from movies sets long ago. Some of the stories were semi-accurate, others were just blatant lies. According to some magazines, Bucky had several illegitimate children scattered around Los Angeles. He was also apparently part of a drug ring and bought millions of dollars’ worth of coke so he’d have stashes wherever he went. Then there were the stories from some cousins in Brooklyn that showed Bucky more than ever that human decency was on its last legs.

Problem child. Reckless, toxic. Attention-seeking heartbreaker. Juvenile delinquent. Lapsed Irish Catholic boy. High school dropout. Big shot. Asshole. Drug addict. Sex addict. Deadbeat daddy.

Some of it sent him reeling, because a lot of the family sources people were referring to were cousins he hadn’t seen since before his father even died. They had no idea and were probably paid by RKB to leak it all.

Bucky used to pay distant relatives for no good reason, until it got to be too much. They’d get into debt and he’d help them out, and before checks could clear they’d be off again, spending the money they never had. Bucky knew he spent his money sometimes like it was burning a hole in his pocket, but none of them even asked how he was, never even cared.

He couldn’t remember when exactly it happened, probably just after _The Winter Soldier_ came out, but one cousin asked him to buy their family a house, and Bucky couldn’t remember the last time they had spoken about anything besides what he _owed_ his family, just because they were related. He burned many bridges in the meantime, but these stories they were telling now were so far from the truth that he didn’t recognize their version of James Barnes at all.

It was easy to not recognize himself, and not be able to tell anyone who he was. He was thirty-two, he was born and raised in Brooklyn. He was a Pisces, six-feet tall and liked watching movies. There wasn’t much else, and whenever people described him it was like – he couldn’t explain it. But they were wrong, positive or negative. Maybe that was what Betty Ross meant by identity issues. Maybe that was his version of BPD.

He was second-guessing each choice as he stared into his suitcase. He knew his usual outfit of white t-shirt with jeans and boots would not be appropriate, especially for the red carpet.

He hadn’t done a press tour in so long. How had he ever managed to do those before without feeling like he could collapse from the way his stomach kept twisting? He didn’t want to cry anymore. He didn’t want to die.

He didn’t want to –

He slammed the suitcase shut, sighing. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. He took out his phone from his back pocket and scrolled through the contacts.

He couldn’t have Darcy worrying about him anymore than she usually was. She was over at her place now, trying to sleep before their flight the next day.

He dialled, his heart racing.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, trying not to sound too desperate too soon. “I meant to call. I just – I just haven’t felt like it, buddy. I’m sorry.”

It was just early enough for Steve to still be up. Bucky glanced at the ceiling, waiting.

“That’s okay, Buck,” he replied.

Bucky fought the urge to burst into tears, feeling his throat tighten just the same. He rubbed his face and scratched his hair.

“I’m trying to pack for the trip.”

“You going with Darcy?” Steve murmured. When Bucky made a vaguely affirming sound, Steve sounded pleased. “That’s good, bud. I’m happy for you.”

“Steve, I love her,” he blurted, and then he let out a sigh. “I’m gonna fuck this up.”

“Fuck what up?” Steve asked.

Bucky sat on his half-empty suitcase. “Everything. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say when people ask about everything that’s been going on. But I have to go, I promised her and Stephen.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck,” Steve said.

“Yeah, but –” Bucky stopped himself, almost confessing the new diagnosis. He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want the shit to stop.”

“Bucky –”

Bucky cut him off. “I want to ask about you, okay? I… need to.”

_Please don’t ask me what’s wrong._

There was a brief silence, and Bucky could picture Steve shaking his head, lost for words at how stubborn he was being.

Darcy’s version of him was the closest to the truth. She knew about the suicidal thoughts, the therapy and pill binges. Steve only knew that Bucky took a break from everything for a little while, and Darcy was helping him through it.

Eventually, Steve answered him.

“I’m having a launch in July. Publisher is pushing for an earlier release. It’s gonna be huge.”

Bucky tried to remember the last time he actually read something Steve illustrated and cringed a little to himself.

“That’s great, man. I’m happy for you. You need to send that to me.”

“I did.”

There was a beat, when Bucky’s heart sank and he tried desperately to place whatever package that might have been. It was probably somewhere amongst his trash. He got up from his seat and walked down the hall to the kitchen, eyes searching for a clue.

The package was under an empty pizza box. All the while, Steve was silent on his end while Bucky ripped the thing open with his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear.

“I got it. I’ll read it on the plane tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to. I get sent a bunch of those to give to –”

Steve was making excuses for him and Bucky couldn’t stand it.

“Steve, I’m sorry for being an unsupportive piece of shit.”

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Buck, you were the one who donated a million dollars to that tiny theatre I go to. You helped me pay off my student loans.”

Bucky didn’t like people mentioning that sort of stuff. It only pointed out that he was desperate to be helpful for people, using his money to make himself feel better.

“I should read your stuff.”

When they hung up, Bucky went back to his room and narrowed his eyes at his suitcase. He glanced down at the book in his hands, seeing a dark-haired man with a cigarette dangling from his lips, his cold stare a vivid blue.

Bucky read the title. _There Is A Light That Never Goes Out._ Steve had signed it, leaving a note, a single word beside the autograph:

_Jerk._

-

Bucky got a private jet.

Paparazzi were at the airport and he tried his best to keep his head down, earphones in as he walked through LAX. He was driven by security to the jet.

He was running late because his nerves kept him under the covers for too long that morning, chain-smoking his way through a whole pack of cigarettes.

He gnawed nicotine gum as he took the stairs up to the cabin two at a time. He ducked his head in where a flight attendant stood, smiling at him.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Sorry.”

“No problem, Mr. Barnes,” she replied. She waved him through and he glanced around, taking off his backpack.

“Hey, babe?” he called out.

A few seconds later, Darcy appeared by the bathroom doorway, smiling at him.

She walked over, his hands on her waist the second she was close enough to him to reach.

“Hey, baby,” she murmured. She gave him a kiss, her nails running up to scrape at his scalp.

He was so happy to see her, so relieved. She looked well-rested, unlike him. They sat down, sharing one of the couches as the captain began to make announcements.

“This is nuts,” Darcy whispered, her feet up. She kicked off her shoes. “I can’t get over how boujee this is.”

Bucky didn’t know how to answer that. He knew he had too much money. Nobody in the world needed that much money.

He made a sound in the back of his throat and Darcy tilted her head toward him, pulling his arm around her shoulders.

“I’m not complaining,” she added. “I like the leg room.”

Bucky chuckled.

Darcy looked around nervously when they left the tarmac, briefly muttering “Wait, am I afraid of flying?” before she grabbed Bucky’s hand and squeezed the hell out of it.

Once they were stable, Darcy got up, walking around. The flight attendant served them coffee and showed them the entertainment system.

Bucky told her to take a break and she obliged, while Darcy flicked through the movies available. She chose _Clueless_ and let it play in the background while Bucky started reading Steve’s graphic novel.

Darcy kept glancing over his shoulder at the pictures.

“That’s beautiful,” she murmured, pointing at a watercolor of the Brooklyn Bridge. “Is that Steve’s?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. Truth be told, he was blown away. Steve had grown exponentially as an artist, and there was so much heart poured into it as well.

“He looks like you,” Darcy added, nodding at the man with the cigarette.

“Hmm. Wonder where he gets his inspiration,” Bucky muttered. He kept on reading for another hour. The story flew by, he was so absorbed in it.

He finished it, letting out a gush of breath as he put it down. He needed to buy ten more copies, just to get it out there.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Darcy caught his eye, her head tilting. He picked it up, pushing it toward her. “Read it. Read it now.”

“What, it’s that good?”

He nodded, and Darcy took it.

He watched the rest of the movie while she read, occasionally looking over to gauge her reactions. Her eyes widened, and she bit lip.

“Bucky… this is incredible,” she murmured. “Seriously.”

She went on, getting right to the end before she spoke again.

“You should show this to Stephen.”

Bucky was thinking the exact same thing, and he smiled at her.

“What?” she said, smiling back at him. He leaned in to kiss her and Darcy chuckled. “You’re so easy to please.”

Their noses brushed and Darcy pressed her lips to his, closing her eyes. He was able to forget everything whenever he was with her. He didn’t have to think about another twelve hours on this plane before getting to France.

Her tongue pressed against the seam of his lips and he let her in, groaning a little at the heat of her kiss. Darcy drew back, just as Bucky was about to trail a hand under her shirt.

“We shouldn’t,” she murmured. “Right? We shouldn’t.”

She glanced at the door, most likely thinking of the staff beyond.

“Up to you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her jaw. He kissed her neck and Darcy bit her lip.

She took a second before she called out, “Can we get a blanket?”

The flight attendant appeared, going to the cabinet above their heads before handing them a fluffy maroon blanket, and Darcy murmured her thanks.

“We’re gonna nap,” she added.

Her cheeks had gone pink. Darcy probably had no idea how often people had sex on planes. Bucky had several times, and not all of them were in private jets with plenty of room to properly move.

They were left alone, the lights dimming. Darcy took a few moments to gather herself, and Bucky caught her chin to look her in the eye.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said. “We can just sleep.”

“Shh,” she replied, and then she kissed him.

He was so turned on by her sudden determination to have her way with him, pushing down her leggings and panties as well as his sweatpants. She climbed on top of him, the blanket covering their lower halves. She licked her hand and stroked Bucky.

“ _Fuck_ –”

 _This girl_. She caught him off-guard somehow. How many times had they done it now? He didn’t know. Still every time he could catch his breath. She sank onto him, one hand pressed against his mouth to smother his moan.

Pot calling the kettle black, Darcy moaned behind her clenched teeth as she set the pace. Bucky’s feet were planted firmly on the floor but he felt far away.

He found her clit, feeling her cunt grip him tighter, drawing him further in. He fought the urge to flip them and fuck her into the couch.

This was about her and her pleasure. Darcy began to huff against his lips as she rocked, as he pushed up into her.

She shuddered, going still as her nails bit into his scalp. She whimpered, and Bucky took over, lifting her up and down.

“I’m gonna come,” he hissed.

There was the same tug, that promise of something so sweet. He would be thinking about his come being inside her for the rest of the day, until she showered when they got to their hotel in Cannes.

He grunted, hips losing rhythm as he came, his lips pressed to Darcy’s as he screwed his eyes shut.

They stayed like that for several seconds, until Darcy drew back, pushing back his hair and staring down at him.

“You sleepy now?” she murmured, and he nodded.

She finally climbed off of him, quickly pulling clothes back on while Bucky did the same. The air smelled of sex and he shook off any shame almost instantly.

Flight attendants had seen much worse. They tried to be semi discrete about it and there wasn’t any mess from what he could tell.

He fell asleep with his head in Darcy’s lap.

-

Cannes was nine hours ahead of L.A. It threw everything off. They left L.A. around 9 A.M. to land at around 6 A.M. the next day.

He knew that beyond the cabin things would change. There’d be cameras, press asking questions. As they were halfway through their flight, Darcy asked about what they were meant to say about themselves.

There were always rumors about who Bucky was dating. Most of them were just rumors. He didn’t want the press to have half a chance to attack Darcy. He felt protective of her, which was why he agreed with Darcy when she said she wanted things to stay private.

Whenever he was around her, all he wanted to do was touch her, so now he’d need to take several steps back and try to keep himself contained. Easier said than done.

They walked down the steps separately, Darcy choosing to leave after him. He had a car waiting for him and his bags were already been sent to his hotel. He put on sunglasses and did the same routine as before at LAX.

“Welcome to France,” one reporter said with heavily accented English. Bucky gave a half-smile and cameras clicked.

“Thank you, I’m glad to be here.”

He didn’t answer questions about Rachel. Apparently people were still wanting to know about how upset he was. He didn’t think about her much anymore, if he was honest.

“Will we be seeing anyone with you on the red carpet?” an American reporter asked, her phone near his face to record his response.

“Just the other people from the movie.”

He didn’t answer much else, and he could see some people were a little annoyed at his tight lips. He felt sweaty from the nerves of it all, but he was sure he was just coming across as an asshole and not a wreck.

He got to the hotel and didn’t know whether to sleep or not. He had a few hours before the first press interview.

He wore a black floral shirt and some khaki shorts and boat shoes. He had no idea what the brands were, so good luck to anyone trying to get that information out of him.

He got a call on the landline after he spritzed some cologne and he picked it up.

“ _Monsieur, monsieur_ –”

It was Darcy, putting on her best French accent. Her voice was too distinct, giving her away almost instantly.

“Hey, baby.”

“You ready? You got someone coming to get you?”

There was a knock on his hotel door.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky replied. “That you?”

He put down the phone and walked over to the door, pulling it open. It was Stephen, with a blonde woman on his arm.

He definitely had a type.

“Hey,” he said. “Darcy’s just on the phone –”

Strange sauntered in, the woman on his arm looking bored.

“This is Veronika.”

She said something in German and Bucky gave her a half-smile. He walked back to the phone and picked it up.

“We’ll meet you down there. Stephen’s here.”

When he hung up, Stephen handed him a vape.

“Something to take the edge off.”

Bucky stared down at it. “I’m guessing this ain’t nicotine.”

Strange only gave him a feline smile and Bucky hesitated, giving Veronika a sidewards glance.

“I’m Bucky, by the way,” he said, and she nodded.

“Yes,” she replied. “Stephen has very good-looking friends.”

She gave him a deliberate stare, her eyes traveling up and down. Strange didn’t look bothered by this at all, just gave her hand a little pat.

“No, darling. He’s not interested. And neither am I.”

Of course Bucky would be proposed a threesome with his director while he was holding a weed vape in a hotel room. _Of course_.

Bucky gave a little laugh of surprise, before putting the vape to his lips and taking a drag. He held it, handing it back to Strange.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, exhaling.

As they arrived at the hall for their first press conference there was a buzz all around. People kept turning and pointing, staring at Bucky as he walked up to the long table teeming with microphones.

The scene hit Bucky so suddenly, and then he remembered that drag he took. The thoughts collided, that he was probably a teensy bit high and watched by hundreds of eyes. His stomach twisted and he held his breath, following after Strange to sit down.

Darcy was there, and she caught his eye. She wore a yellow sundress with a matching headband, looking like a brunette Sharon Tate with her 60s makeup and beehive. Bucky probably stared at her too long, being the last one to finally take his seat.

“Hello, welcome everyone.”

The French host spoke about rules in both English and French, and Bucky did his best not to look like a deer in headlights as cameras continued to click.

“Just a few more seconds for pictures and then we’ll begin.”

Having Strange between himself and Darcy was probably for the best, since all he wanted to do was hold someone’s hand, but so many people would most likely see it.

“First off, I want to congratulate you all on being here today, given what we have already heard about this film,” the first reporter said. “You began shooting in January and only wrapped weeks ago. When was this film in the can, so to speak?”

“About forty hours ago,” Strange replied instantly.

Everyone laughed, except Bucky and Veronika, who was standing in the back somewhere looking at her phone.  Bucky forced a smile. There was a rapid translation to French and more laughter.

He figured he wasn’t that high, he just felt like he had just woken up from a nap, the world around him trying to right itself.

“Mister Barnes, may I ask about what drew you to Stephen’s work?”

He didn’t know where that voice came from and his eyes snapped up from the table, looking around. A silence fell over the room, everyone waiting.

He was high.

He finally spotted the woman holding the microphone.

“I was told he wrote the role for me.”

There was a pause, and he cleared his throat.

“I mean, I saw _Ache and Bone_ soon after my agent asked about _The Death of a Marriage_ and I like… couldn’t stop thinking about it. Like, it was phenomenal.”

The woman nodded. “And then?”

“Well, I did the movie.”

There was scattered laughter and the room moved on, Bucky passing a hand over his face. Luckily there were more questions for Strange than for anyone else. Bucky listened and watched his director speak eloquently about interpretations of various painters, films and other influences for his creative flow. He zoned out a lot.

“Miss Lewis, what was your process for this particular role?” one reporter asked, and Darcy lit up.

“Oh, God… I mean, how does one prepare for a Stephen Strange role?” she asked, and began to chuckle. She glanced at their director, a fond smile on her face. “He told me to forget whatever I thought it was going to be like. And also I needed to go into the woods and run around naked.”

Bucky hadn’t heard that story before. Stephen just told him to meet ex-cons and spend a lot of time thinking about his childhood, the latter he never did.

Darcy’s eyes met Bucky’s for a brief second and her smile slipped for a second, as if she’d just noticed something.

“And did you do that?” the reporter prompted, as the audience laughed.

“What do you think? That’s my answer,” Darcy said, turning her head to smile. “I’ll leave that up to you.”

Once the press conference finished, they filed out for more photographs, and Darcy was between Strange and Bucky as photographers had them pose for several minutes.

Bucky touched the small of her back for a second, which was innocent enough. Darcy tilted her head toward him to smile up at him.

“Your eyes are red,” she said through the smile, and Bucky tried his best not to react.

He looked ahead at the cameras instead, his heart beating faster.

He returned to his room and waited, wondering what Darcy would do. He’d done the wrong thing within hours of them arriving. He couldn’t be trusted.

He opened the door after ten minutes of waiting to see Darcy standing there with Strange at her side, her hands on her hips.

“Hey,” Bucky said, but she walked past him with a huff.

Strange met his eye. “I wouldn’t.”

Once Bucky closed the door again, Darcy rounded on them both.

“What is wrong with you?”

“We’re in France,” Strange replied, his accent switching to English. “Your co-star was nervous.”

Was she about to spill the beans about the pills? Bucky felt his heart in his throat.

“My mistake, okay? I take full responsibility, I should have said no,” he said, and Darcy’s face softened for a second, her eyes darting back and forth.

“Bucky –”

“I did it. I’m an adult,” Bucky said. He had already dealt with some of the side effects, eating a chocolate bar with an unfamiliar French label that he found in his minibar.

“You don’t want to get high, Darcy?” Strange asked, and Darcy threw him a withering look.

“What, you think you’re the caterpillar from _Alice in Wonderland_?” she snapped. “Who are you? We’re here to promote _your_ movie. If we don’t because you two can’t stay sober during interviews -”

“Darcy, it won’t happen again,” Bucky said.

It was like her party all over again. He was sure he’d blown it, and she’d be ignoring him, acting civil only around the cameras, and then she’d never speak to him again after Cannes.

His expression must have changed, because Darcy came toward him, hands clutching his face.

Bucky was suddenly aware of a whole other pair of eyes on them and he shook his head, wanting to hide.

“You okay? Hey, look at me.” He did eventually, and Darcy narrowed her eyes slightly. “I’m _not that mad_. I’m just stressed out. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You could use some weed, darling,” Strange said, looking fascinated as he watched them.

Bucky turned his head slightly to look at him, and Strange went on:

“How long has this been going on?”

Bucky glanced away. He wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer. He was in no condition to. Darcy just let him go, her hands falling to her sides.

“A while,” she said. “And I don’t want to exploit it.”

“Well, I think people will draw conclusions eventually, especially after the premiere tonight,” Strange said. He promptly took out his vape pen and stuck it in his mouth, smirking. “Caterpillar, indeed.”

Darcy set her jaw. “If you tell anyone –”

“How perfectly boring, of course I won’t,” Strange interjected coolly. He took a deep drag and let it go through his nose, assessing them both. “Bucky, do you love her?”

Bucky met Darcy’s gaze.

“Yes, very much,” he said instantly, and she looked touched. “I want to scream it from the rooftops, but I don’t want people talking about us.”

“I’m not ashamed,” Darcy said, touching his hand.

“I know you’re not, baby,” he said. He looked back at Strange. “I _should_ be semi-sober this festival. But you were right, I am nervous.”

Strange’s face changed, and her nodded, very serious.

“A lot is riding on this,” Bucky added. “I’m done if this doesn’t work out.”

“It will,” Strange said, leaning forward slightly, whispering as if they weren’t alone. “And I am touched that you care this much, Bucky. Truly, I am.”

He looked at Darcy.

“And my Natalie. Darling girl.”

“Where’s Veronika?” Bucky asked suddenly, and Darcy snorted beside him.

Strange took a second to scan his brain while he vaped.

“Skulking around somewhere.”

“So surprising that you’ve been married four times,” Darcy muttered. She thread her fingers through Bucky’s.

“Three, because technically the second one was more of a common marriage thing we did in Namibia,” Strange said, squinting slightly at the memory. “I must go back some day. Be one with nature, and maybe hallucinate a bit.”

Bucky and Darcy’s eyes met and Bucky pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing.

-

The movie was not what drew the enormous crowd that night. Bucky knew it was because he was in the news. He still had that mark on his forehead. He still was trying to get May to negotiate a better deal with RKB.

He tried his best to push thoughts of the industry aside as his feet landed on the red carpet and he began to walk up to where Strange stood, his hands in his suit pockets.

Bucky wore a sharp navy suit with his Aviator sunglasses still on. One last time he’d do it; pretend to be Jack. What would Jack do? He’d most likely love the attention, and act like he belonged despite the nerves in his stomach.

Bucky wet his lips and took of his sunglasses. There were screams, cheers. Different languages yelling out to him. He put up his hand, and eventually made it to Strange’s side, giving him a nod.

On closer inspection, Strange wore a dark suit as well, with a black shirt and tie dotted with tiny golden stars. He wore a pair of small purple sunglasses and regarded Bucky as he shook his hand.

“It’s all downhill from here,” Bucky said, but the Brit just rose an eyebrow.

“You’ll see.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Bucky said. He rarely ever saw his own films out of choice. He’d often slip outside to smoke the second the lights were shut off.

“Grumpy, sober Bucky,” Strange muttered, but he was only teasing.

There was a red shape in the corner of Bucky’s eye and he turned his head, Strange following his gaze.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed.”

Darcy was a vision in red, the same dress he saw her try on two weeks ago. She’d transformed since the press conference, her hair now in long chocolate waves that cascaded down her back. Her eyes were lined with smoky grey and black. Her nails were a deep blood red, and her lips looked stained with some type of berry.

She was like sex on legs, and Bucky just stared and stared as she came over. She gave Strange a kiss on his cheek, and then moved toward Bucky.

He wanted to lift her up to the heavens, kiss her everywhere, take her aside and tell her everything. He was so lucky.

He was so lucky.

“Hey,” she breathed, and he caught her in a hug, hands splaying along her bare skin. “You look so handsome.”

He pulled back, kissing her cheek. She squeezed his hand. No-one could deny that they were close, and certainly there would be rumours, but it was funny that they were hiding in plain sight, beaming at one another while hundreds of cameras clicked away.

“You look like a princess,” he replied, and she smiled.

He couldn’t even mouth it, _I love you_ , but he squeezed her hand to make his point and she nodded, squeezing back.

They turned toward the cameras, still holding their hands, until it was time to go inside. Bucky’s heart was racing. The next two hours could make or break his career.

He gave Strange one last glance before the film began.

“See you on the other side,” Strange murmured, and Bucky gave a nod.

He knew he could trust him.

-

The opening shot was of Jack walking down the lane between two houses with his toddler Lily on his hip. Bucky recognized that it was him up on the screen, but it felt different.

There was no soundtrack, just sounds of the cars in the neighbourhood, and Lily murmuring something occasionally in baby talk.

“You hungry?”

“Nah.”

“Well, too bad, I’m the boss.”

Someone behind Bucky laughed, a little titter. Bucky remembered improvising that on the day. The toddler playing Lily was named Alice, and she giggled a lot.

“What if I ate you, huh? ‘Cause I’m hungry.”

Jack leaned in to nip at Lily’s fingers. She squealed.

“You don’t need all these. What if I just have one, huh?”

The scene cut, to the same lane again, but Jack was following Natalie down the street. It was the first scene they ever shot, and Bucky could remember how nervous he was that day.

“How come I’ve never seen you around here, huh?” Jack asked Natalie.

She looked closed off, reluctant to give him much to work with.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You wanna be a star.”

She glared at him, but Jack didn’t seem bothered.

“Sweetheart, look at you. You got that star quality,” Jack went on, and Natalie gave a short laugh, shaking her head. “What, that doesn’t work on you?”

“How often have you tried this method?” Natalie asked, and Jack paused in front of her. “Or, let me guess – you’ve never got this far before?”

“No, I never tried it before – but, I’ll be honest with you, I never wanted to.”

The shot lingered on Natalie’s face, and she smiled again as he went on.

“I see someone like you walking past my house, I’d be a fucking idiot not to introduce myself.”

She broke into a smile, a real one. She tried to hide it, ducking her head to mumble, “Go away.”

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said, and she glanced up, blushing. “I could stare at you for hours, I mean that.”

When they kiss for the first time, there are shots of their hands, and then their lips. There was never a wide shot of the moment. It felt as though Strange was deliberately concealing it. It was a glimpse of an intimacy, as if the cameras were only sneaking snatches of it.

There was the lingering shot of Natalie’s hand gripping the fence with their panting breaths the only sound, and then the screen went black.

Back to the present, and Jack was sitting with Lily and Natalie in the kitchen, eating lunch. Natalie’s foot was resting on part of his chair, and she occasionally checked that their little girl was eating her food. Again, Bucky felt as though there were moments captured as if by chance, that the audience was looking in on a private life, something tender.

There was a knock, and Jack got up to answer the door, and Mike is there.

Bucky missed Clint Barton suddenly. It was a pity that he couldn’t make it to Cannes, but he was up to his neck with HBO projects.

“Hey, man,” Mike said, and Jack looked taken aback.

“Shit, when did you get out?”

They laughed together and he pulled Mike into a hug, hands patting backs as they laughed.

“Good behavior.”

“Fuck, what’s that?” Jack said, and Mike laughed. Lily made a noise somewhere in the kitchen and Mike’s face changed.

“Shit, that your kid?”

“Yeah,” Jack breathed. “You wanna meet her?”

Mike came into the kitchen and Natalie’s eyes widen.

“Oh, my God. Mike?”

“Hey, Nat,” he said, beaming at her, and then Lily. “This Lily?”

Lily looked at him cautiously, and Natalie touched her pudgy arm.

“It’s okay, honey. It’s Mikey, Daddy’s friend.”

There were snapshots of their evening together, and Lily’s put to bed, Mike sitting at their table. He gave Nat a glance and looked at Jack.

“Your little wife, man.”

“Hey, emphasis on _wife_ ,” Jack said, but he was smiling.

He pulled Natalie toward him and she sat on his lap, smiling down at him. He kissed her, turning his head to Mike.

“You got a job coming up?”

Natalie’s face slackened. “Hey, what did I say last time you were here? No talking about jobs in my house.”

Jack glanced at her, frowning. “Calm down, alright? It’s Mike.”

“He was in _fucking jail_ , Jack,” she retorted. “And our kid’s in the next room sleeping.”

Mike just nods, hands up.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to say hello. Jack, if you’re interested, we have some cars that –”

“No!” Natalie all but yelled. She glanced at Jack. “You promised the day we got married. You _promised_.”

It was as if they were no longer in the same room with Mike. The camera zoomed in on Natalie’s eyes as she said it, showing her tears beginning to build up.

“Hey, you think I want to do that shit?” Jack yelled, right in her face.

Natalie recoiled. She bolted down the hallway.

“Where are you going?”

“Fuck you!”

There was another flashback, and Bucky felt his stomach drop. There was a tension that set into the audience already, because the yelling was so jarring, so confronting. Bucky’s stomach dropped as he realized they were about to see the first sex scene.

There were hushed murmurs as the first shot of Bucky standing naked by the bed appeared on the screen above them.

The entire screen is filled with those two seconds of his flaccid dick and Bucky closed his eyes. He had no idea how he would react, and now he knew. He swallowed, his knee starting to jig up and down once he opened his eyes.

It looked like they were having sex. Bucky knew everything that went into it, he even saw the dailies and dubbed over it as well and it looked _real_ to him. If it appeared that way to him, what would the audience be thinking?

Some people gasp in their seats as the scene cut to them rutting together, their faces pink as they panted. It was the shot of Darcy on top of him, with her bare chest in one brief shot.

Strange was true to his word. The nudity was not gratuitous but the sex scenes were undeniably realistic in sound and look. Bucky glanced beside him at Darcy, who was biting her lip in her seat, her face unreadable.

Bucky had no idea how long the scene went on for, but when it was over he finally looked away from Darcy back at the screen.

For a fleeting moment, he considered pulling the fire alarm if there was one around. Then he saw a single frame slip in during another scene. A barely detectable shot of Natalie and Jack covered in blood speeding down the highway.

There was a murmur in the audience. Did anyone else see that? Bucky felt himself smile for a second. Everyone was hooked.

As the film progressed, there was the mounting drama of Jack returning to a life of crime, with sex scenes in between their everyday lives. It was a love story. It was undeniably love on that screen.

Their chemistry poured into every shot. No wonder he fell for Darcy so fast, she made every scene between them so believable. He fought the urge not to keep looking at her in the dark.

Natalie was a real woman. Bucky did not credit Strange for writing her. He just handed Darcy the blueprints and she brought her to life, she made her as memorable as Alabama in _True Romance_.  

The attempted rape scene was hard to watch, because it was one long take of Natalie’s face for the entire scene. It was difficult for Bucky to distinguish between the two, because he had seen Darcy cry out of character. He’d seen her in pain as both Natalie and Darcy.

They used some of the original dialogue from Darcy’s audition for Natalie in one of the climatic scenes when Jack found out about Mike, thinking Natalie slept with him. He was heartbroken, screaming at her. Bucky hated filming that. It was a tough morning. Natalie only whispered back to Jack that Mike tried to rape her, after saying she didn’t want to be in love anymore.

Jack stabbing Mike to death had to be a shock, but it was part of their descent, part of the death of the marriage. The innocence was lost. Jack only killed Mike because he was overcome by his own powerlessness in the situation, the madness that came from him not being able to defend his wife. At the last moment, Mike grabbed Jack, and began to throttle him. As he held Jack down, he grabbed the bloody knife and stuck him twice in the gut.

Natalie burst into Mike’s living room with Jack’s gun he had stashed at home and shot him in the chest. Mike does not die as fast as expected. Natalie crawled over to Jack, and he pulled her toward him, Mike lying on the floor, struggling for breath.

“Someone would have heard that.”

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Jack hissed, kissing her hard. “Huh?”

She sobbed. “He was killing you.”

“You’d be better off. Lily’d be better off.”

“No – Jack, _please_.”

Natalie just sobbed, while the camera was set on Mike’s blank face. Jack winced, and his face is pale and sweaty.

“We have to go,” Natalie said, Jack’s face in her bloody hands. “Baby? We gotta go.”

They reached the last scene. Jack is limp against as they speed down the highway, Natalie sobbing through clenched teeth, hyperventilating. Bucky knew then that Jack was dead. Otherwise Natalie would have gone to the hospital.

The last shot was of Natalie’s face like stone, with the roar of the engine the only sound. She was no longer crying, just speeding away to meet the horizon.

There were three frames that appeared in flashes, of Jack and Natalie pressed together, making love. It was the moment Bucky made Darcy laugh in between takes, when Strange had already called cut. The fact that Strange had decided to use that outtake as part of the story made Bucky’s stomach flip.

A song began to play in the background, as tears fell from Natalie’s eyes. The screen cut to black, with Strange’s name under the title. It only occurred to Bucky then that there was no introductory credits.

The theatre erupted in applause.

Bucky looked at Darcy beside him and saw her eyes were full of tears. It meant it was over. It meant everything was in the hands of other people, and she could rest. She glanced at him, and he pulled her into a hug while the theatre was full of a standing ovation.

He buried his face in her neck and felt tears spring in his eyes. When he drew back, Darcy touched his face, brushing away a tear with her thumb.

-

“This is your first Cannes?”

“Yeah, we’re both virgins,” Bucky replied, and Darcy beside him made an ‘ohh’ sound, shimmying her shoulders.

It was their eighth interview that day. After the premiere, people couldn’t stop talking about _The Death of a Marriage_. Bucky had to keep checking his phone because Wanda was still desperately trying to manage everything back in L.A. He should probably hire a new assistant, and a business manager.

It was easier to meet strangers with Darcy next to him. Everyone was kind, and only occasionally would someone dare mention RKB and the contract dispute, but Darcy often jumped it, redirecting it back to the film.

“This movie…” the interviewer’s eyes widened as he moved forward and Bucky waited for him to elaborate.

“Yeah?”

“We thought we knew you, James Barnes.”

Bucky made a face. “Oh, yeah. I mean, maybe.”

Darcy snorted.

“You got something to add, babe?”

“Nothing. I’m waiting for sex scene questions.”

They were doing open flirting in front of the cameras and press. It was harmless and fun. It made things better. Bucky didn’t have to pretend she wasn’t his friend.

The interviewer nodded, laughing. “Well, that we can’t get over, either.”

“I’m so glad,” Bucky replied, shaking his head. “I was hoping for more questions.”

“Not sexy at all? That process?”

“Can I curse?” Bucky asked, looking at the camera behind the interviewer.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck no, baby,” Darcy sing-songed, before Bucky could say another word.

They laughed together. Bucky took another sip of his coffee. He’d lost count and he might have had five today already.

“It’s horrible,” Bucky elaborated. “I don’t think people realize that. It’s like the least sexy thing you can possibly do.”

“Darcy, do you have something to add?”

Darcy made a face. “I mean, yeah. It’s like a sweaty, orchestrated dance of constant despair.”

“But good film making.”

“Right,” Darcy said, shaking her head.

After another hour of interviews, Darcy was beginning to deflate and their conversations were turning more juvenile.

At one point, a male interviewer complimented Darcy’s dress, which was sky blue and hugged every curve.

“Thank you,” she said. “Do you ever just…?”

She looked at Bucky, and he gave her a quizzical look.

“What, babe?”

“Do you ever just look in the mirror and immediately come?”

Bucky let out a bark of a laugh, and then dissolved into a giggle. He bent over, losing control as the interviewer shook their head at Darcy.

“I can’t say any of that on camera?” she whined. “Goddamn.”

Bucky was laughing so hard that he felt tears in his eyes. He kept going, until he was breathless, groaning a little as he wiped his eyes.

“Ah, fuck,” he said. “What if you lived in a house with oil paintings of yourself –”

“And you were just over _come_?” Darcy finished, laughing. She glanced at the interviewer. “I am so sorry. We’re just losing our minds.”

“Oil paintings that you painted of yourself?” Bucky added, and he began to laugh again.

“Bucky!” Darcy groaned, because she couldn’t stop laughing, either.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, and the interviewer was a good sport. They eventually got through it, and they broke for lunch.

They found Strange at a table with several journalists, all of them hanging on his every word, the only person who didn’t belong there was Veronika.

Darcy nudged Bucky and nodded at the blonde woman.

“She’s like this weird blend of constant intellectual boredom but she’s easily aroused,” Darcy murmured. “You agree?”

“She come onto you, too?” Bucky muttered, and Darcy snorted.

“Why is she even here?”

Bucky shrugged. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Darcy pointed to a table and he nodded, taking out his phone to answer it. He saw on the display that it was Wanda.

“Hey, some news just came in that people might ask about.”

“What is it?”

He’d stopped hoping for anything positive. He didn’t want to be disappointed, and Cannes was a good distraction.

“RKB and three other studios are in a bidding war for the movie.”

Bucky tried to process it all, and he watched Darcy take her seat and smile at him.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he managed to reply. “They’re trying to get back at me.”

“I think they’ll use it as one of your remaining movies under contract.”

Bucky closed his eyes, sighing. “No, I don’t want that.”

It would make things easier long-term but he didn’t want them anywhere near Strange’s film. He passed a hand over his face.

“I’ll talk to Stephen.”

“It might be a blessing in disguise,” Wanda said. She sighed on her end. “But I know you don’t want this. It’s not up to you.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure,” Bucky lied. Darcy was looking at a menu, probably trying to practise her limited French. She was so sweet, and all he wanted to do was take her on a real date, somewhere by the shore.

“Bucky –”

“Thank you for that update,” he interrupted. “And thank you for being understanding. I need to talk to Stephen. I’m sure you’ll know before me how this shit turns out.”

He hung up, rubbing his eyes. He wanted a cigarette.

-

The film won the Grand Jury Prize.

For Bucky it was unexpected, but Strange seemed validated, stirred up by the moment enough to hug Bucky and Darcy in front of hundreds of cameras.

People wouldn’t stop talking about Darcy and Bucky being naked together, but that was understandable, considering Bucky’s dating past. One blog said Darcy was his type because she had a pulse, and that made him chuckle.

He found a moment to catch Strange in his hotel room. Luckily, Veronika was nowhere to be seen. He carried Steve’s book in one hand, a cigarette in his other.

Strange let him in, and he does not seem ready to sleep at all despite his favorite velvet robe.

“RKB want the movie,” Bucky began, and Strange nodded.

“Naturally.”

“I don’t want them touching it,” Bucky said. “And… I know you might have some leverage with that decision.”

“The film is entirely my own,” Strange said, a hand on his chest. “But you should know that it’s growning by the hour.”

“They want to fuck me over.”

“Not everyone wants to fuck you, Bucky Barnes,” Strange said drily, and Bucky glared at him. “A little joke. I know what you said.”

Bucky sighed. “I don’t want my… Just, think about it.”

“I already did,” Strange replied, shrugging a shoulder. “Which is why I’m turning them down. Even though they offered me three million more than everyone else.”

Bucky’s eyes widened.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone I have a heart,” Strange said, pointing at him. “That type of shit getting out would mean I’d get eaten alive, and you know it.”

Bucky gaped. “Thank you.”

“Shut up,” Strange said, rolling his eyes. He glanced down at the book in Bucky’s hand. “What’s that?”

“My buddy Steve’s new book. I want you to have it.”

Strange snatched it, eyes roving across its front cover.

“Do you have any idea how many people pitch to me their books?”

Strange waited for an answer, but Bucky shrugged.

“A lot. But this guy I know – WAIT!”

He flipped it over, reading the back.

“Holy shit, why did you never tell me you knew Joseph G. Stevens? Didn’t he write that Batman arc, with the time travel? Oh, my fuck.”

His accent kept switching and Bucky felt himself smile.

“Read it now. It’s an advance copy.”

Bucky sat on Strange’s bed as he devoured the book. He read faster than Bucky expected, every once in a while laughing at something, or gasping.

Once he finished, Strange pinched the bridge of his nose and put the book down. He took several moments for himself as Bucky lit a cigarette on the balcony and smoked it in silence.

“How -?” Strange cut himself off. He cleared his throat. “You spend this entire festival not talking to me about this book?”

“I was busy,” Bucky retorted.

“You… prick,” Strange muttered. “I’m gonna have to buy the rights.”

He narrowed his eyes at the night sky.

“You have to be in it,” he added, and Bucky’s eyes widened.

“No. It’s based on my life. His and mine.”

“Then you have to do it,” Strange retorted, one hand up. “You have to. But we can’t call it that name, obviously.”

Bucky shook his head. “RKB are gonna sue me, and no-one will touch us. No-one will finance anything I’m in.”

Strange’s eyes lit up. “Brilliant! We start our own company, then.”

“Stephen, I have _no_ experience being a producer –”

“Fuck off,” Strange interrupted, waving a hand. His American accent vanished. “You are one. You did more in _The Death of a Marriage_ that any of my arsehole producers have ever done before.”

Bucky pressed his lips together, conceding. He took one last drag of his cigarette before he mashed it in the complimentary ashtray.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Strange said. “And what about Darcy?”

Bucky blinked. “What?”

“She read it? She should be Cassandra.”

Bucky had thought about it, but he wasn’t about to pressure Darcy into doing anything just because they were together. Cassandra was a combination of three different girls that Bucky dated or fooled around with in high school before he dropped out.

Bucky ducked his head, chuckling. “Yeah. But –”

“You’ll think about it,” Strange finished, looking more like Veronika, and very bored.

Bucky chuckled again, shaking his head.

“What about you, what now?”

“Well, I need to purge myself of all earthly bonds before writing my next film, even if it’s based on a book,” Strange said, eyebrows quirking. “So I’m going to disappear for a few months.”

Bucky nodded.

“And you?”

He shook his head. “I dunno. I want to take a break. Stay here. Maybe Darcy will let me take her around Paris or something.”

-

Darcy met Bucky in the lobby of his hotel which was a block over from hers. She wore another sundress and no makeup, and she smelt of maple.

“I just had breakfast,” she said, and he hugged her to him.

He wanted to kiss her so badly but there were people milling around, watching them. Darcy could probably read his mind, smirking up at him.

“Boo,” he mumbled, staring at her mouth.

She just kept her arms wrapped around him, waiting for him to speak.

“Where’s Stephen?”

“He left last night,” she replied. “Veronika was with him. He said ‘if you don’t hear from me’… and then just exited stage left, I guess.”

Bucky gave a small smile. “I think that means if we don’t hear from him, he’s dead.”

“Is he serious about that jungle thing?”

“Probably.”

They lapsed into silence. Darcy looked around, sighing. She watched the people watching them and her face changed once more.

“You okay?”

She bit her lip. She looked like she was about to cry.

“Hey,” he said, his hand coming up to cup her face. “It’s okay.”

“I feel… really weird,” Darcy mumbled.

He took her by the arm and they walked to the elevator. He knew people would take pictures of them leaving together but she deserved privacy.

They reached his room and he sat her down on his unmade bed. She began to cry, her face in her hands.

“It’s over and I miss it,” she mumbled. She sniffled. “My manager is getting all these offers and it’s like… everything I ever wanted. But I don’t – I don’t want things to change.”

“Darcy,” Bucky began, but she shook her head.

“I asked for this. My brother’s fiancé is a nurse. I could have been a teacher. My mom went crazy the day I told her I was leaving Bryn Mawr for L.A.”

She shook her head, her hands in her lap. Bucky knelt on the floor, looking up into her eyes.

“It is scary,” he said. “But you deserve people congratulating you for the movie.”

“You’re biased.”

“Probably,” Bucky admitted. “But I’d be a fucking idiot if I never told you how proud I am of you. How happy I am we did this together.”

She whimpered, more tears falling.

“I mean it,” Bucky said, his voice changing at the end, his throat tightening. “I love you so much.”

He leaned forward, his face resting on her knee and Darcy stroked his hair as she sniffled.

“I don’t want to go home.”

Bucky looked up. “We don’t have to.”

Darcy swallowed, wiping her eyes. She nodded. “Okay.”

-

They had a month in France. The hopped from Cannes to Paris, they trekked through Normandy. They walked through pebbled beaches and he kissed her at every chance he got.

He ignored the Internet, but their relationship was out. Darcy’s team was asking when she’d be back, and what they should do about Bucky, how they were going to deal with that bad publicity.

Darcy would sometimes be screaming into her phone, so upset that someone was telling her to let him go for the sake of her career. Bucky hated that she’d already been through so much for him. She’d hang up, shaking all over as she paced the hotel room while Bucky looked at the floor, telling her he was sorry.

He missed the appointment with Dr. Ross, and Darcy was upset. They argued, and he knew he was in the wrong. He knew he needed to work on himself, but he wanted to keep running away with her, keep pushing reality away as they drank red wine at sunset.

“Bucky, I’ll be okay,” she said one night, their last night in Europe. She curled herself around him, tucking her chin onto his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his skin. “I promise.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

He said it without thinking. He didn’t know what to blame, but he regretted instantly. It made him sound so pathetic, and so manipulative. How dare he say that to her?

“I’m not going to,” she replied, hugging him tighter.

“I’m sorry, ignore me,” he hissed. “I’m just – I’m sorry. I’ll be fine. I’m sorry.”

He hated how he sounded. A man does not do that to a woman, makes her suddenly accountable for his happiness. He was a piece of shit.

“Please. Just forget I said it.”

 The next morning as they made their way through the airport being escorted by security, Darcy was bombarded with all sorts of graphic questions.

They were lucky Bucky wasn’t about to start swinging. He promised Darcy he wouldn’t react. As they got to the jet, Bucky began to gnaw at his lip.

“I can’t come with you,” he blurted.

“What?” Darcy said, looking horrified.

“I should go to Brooklyn. Just for a little while. Steve’s book, and everything. My mom worries –”

“Babe,” Darcy said, as Bucky still held his carry-on. “I swear I won’t leave you.”

He shook his head, feeling his face flush. “It’s not that. I’m not pushing you away.”

She nodded, though to Bucky she still seemed unconvinced.

“When I get back, I want you to move in with me,” he said.

He’d thought it every day since he left the Hilton weeks ago. He just hoped she would be on the same page as him, the same stage of their relationship.

Darcy’s eyes snapped up to his.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she said, and she kissed him. “Are you kidding me? Where are we gonna go?”

“I want to buy somewhere new,” he said. “I don’t want my condo anymore. I hate that place.”

Darcy laughed, suddenly teary.

“Are you sure?”

“Are _you_ sure?” he threw back.

She just smiled, overwhelmed. “Oh, honey. Now you have to leave me in L.A.? When all I want to do is sit on your face?”

He began to laugh, pulling her into another kiss, his bag falling to the floor.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sad that I will never see Stephen Strange do or say any of the things I write for his character in this fic. He's close becoming my favourite (can I have a fave character within my own fic? I guess so.). 
> 
>  [I'm waiting for sex scene questions](https://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/post/184336219288/zephrbabe-livvy1800-colinjfarrells-before) (Thank you zephrbabe for tagging me)
> 
>  
> 
> [“Fuck no, baby,” Darcy sing-songed, before Bucky could say another word.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LuuXoanGMn4)
> 
>  
> 
> [If you don't see me again, it means I'm dead](https://youtu.be/KVbBkEyaoT8?t=143)
> 
>  
> 
> [City of Blinding Lights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xQOb51qZ-c) \- this song is kind of a throwback but the lyrics are so moving, and it's such a beautiful and underrated U2 song. 
> 
>  
> 
> [my Tumblr](http:/grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Death of a Marriage Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170838034/playlist/4UJXVMguNebxtSWbJpgJmf?si=GCcKETiKTim1Tpmd9NqGzw)


	15. Part Fifteen: Love dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're on the home stretch. I love this story very dearly and will be sad to finish it. I love this version of Bucky so much that it's getting ridiculous. Thank you for your patience!

_And I think it's gonna be a long long time_  
_'Till touch down brings me round again to find_  
_I'm not the man they think I am at home_

\- "Rocket Man" by Elton John

 

 

 

 

_Good time for a change_  
_See, the luck I've had_  
_Can make a good man_  
_Turn bad_

_So please please please_  
_Let me, let me, let me_  
_Let me get what I want_  
_This time_

\- "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want" by The Smiths

 

 

 

**Part Fifteen: Love dies**

 

 

“This is… great,” Bucky said, glancing around.

The space he and the realtor are standing in is empty, the ceilings high. The windows go from floor to ceiling, showing the Manhattan skyline. He doesn’t know what else to say, because it is a beautiful place but he doesn’t know much about interior design or architecture.

“Imagine what you can do with the space. If you can,” the realtor said waving one of her hands around. “This is the dining area. So you’d have dinner at sunset, breakfast out here at sunrise.”

“I don’t get up that early,” Bucky said, lips quirking.

The truth was his insomnia was worse and he was often up half the night. He’d spent the last week at his mom’s place in Brooklyn trying to succumb to sleep only to find himself checking his phone and seeing he’d laid down for six hours and nothing happened. He supposed it was better to stay with his mom than Steve, because she tried to look after him and didn’t let him sit around all day.

He readjusted his sunglasses that hung on the neckline of his shirt and the realtor just smiled at him, nodding.

“Great incentive to, then.”

He nodded. The penthouse was bigger than his condo, with better security, better views. He’d be closer to his mom and Steve. He’d have more reason to stick around if RKB chose to pull the plug on his entire life. He could afford it even if they did sue him.

“The owner is asking for 4.3, but I can get it down to –”

“4.3 is fine,” Bucky said. “I really like it.”

As he rode the elevator down to the lobby, the realtor chatted with him.

“I saw the trailer for that movie you did with Stephen Strange.”

“Really, it dropped?” Bucky asked, and she nodded, eyes widening.

“You should watch it. It’s amazing. I got goose bumps.”

“Oh, that’s… thank you,” he said, feeling awkward. He needed to get better at receiving compliments. He never knew what to do with his words or body when they were thrown his way and he worried he came across as a mess.

He was a bit of a mess but that was beside the point. Most other people didn’t need to know that. Not complete strangers at least.

“I’ll call your guy, or you can call me,” she said, handing him another card. “I’m very reachable.”

“Thanks.”

He took a cab back to his mom’s place and let himself in, looking around.

“Ma?”

“In here,” she called, and he could smell she was cooking something.

He wandered into the kitchen and kissed the back of her head, glancing over her shoulder at the saucepan.

“Ma, I’m out tonight, remember? Steve’s launch.”

“You are too skinny.”

“I’m _not_ ,” he insisted, laughing a little.

They’d had this argument at least thirty times already. When he landed in New York last week after being in France with Darcy his mom took one look at him and started up about him losing weight.

Bucky had no idea it was noticeable. He knew he hadn’t eaten as much the last couple months and he kept missing the gym but it wasn’t until someone pointed it out that he caught himself in the mirror, seeing more lines in his face and his pants felt looser around his hips.

“It ain’t right for me to let you go anywhere knowing you haven’t eaten, you know that.”

She made it sound like he was a child going to another friend’s house hungry and he sighed, shaking his head.

“I swear there will be food at the launch. It’s not an L.A. party. We eat here.”

She didn’t laugh at his joke, instead shooting him a look.

“Don’t tell me Darcy does those cuckoo juice cleanses. She’s a smart girl.”

“She doesn’t.”

Darcy’s method of dieting was eating one doughnut instead of two and buying extra Spanx and he genuinely loved that about her.

“But if she’s such a smart girl, what’s she doin’ with me?” he added, and Judie’s face fell.

“Hey, enougha that,” she chided. “Sound like your daddy when you talk like that.”

Bucky gave her another kiss on her cheek and she pulled back, eyes searching his face.

“What was that for?”

“I love you Ma, alright?”

She’s so touched that she put a hand to her chest and cooed, which only made Bucky shake his head a little and leave the kitchen for the spare room.

Steve came by to pick him up, politely turning down dinner as Judie hovered. Bucky wore a leather jacket over his white t-shirt. He didn’t know how many more times he could get away with wearing the same outfit all the time, but he did notice that paparazzi were less likely to follow him to take pictures if he wore the same thing every day.

“Jesus, you look like a baby,” Steve said when he caught sight of him. He was referring to Bucky’s sudden lack of facial hair.

Bucky pulled on his boots, tying them. He pointed to his eyes.

“Not with these bad boys,” he muttered, because the bags were more noticeable today.

He needed to remember he was over thirty, but that didn’t make wearing sunglasses indoors any less tempting.

“You ready?” Steve asked, and Bucky stood up, stamping a foot on the solid floor.

“James Barnes, stop it.”

Bucky ignored his mom’s comment and moved toward her, kissing her cheek.

“Don’t wait up. And don’t have a raging party while I’m gone.”

Judie shook her head at him, touching his face with one hand.

“So handsome.”

“Stop.”

Steve chuckled as they left his mom’s building and Bucky shoved him into a wall with his shoulder to shut him up.

They arrived at the event through the back entrance, the liaison from the publisher there along with Steve’s agent. Bucky was aware of the staff around him stealing glances his way. He wanted to be there for Steve but there was always going to be the risk of him drawing too much attention to himself.

“Hi,” Steve’s agent said, her eyes widening at the sight of Bucky standing beside Steve. “I’m so glad you came to this.”

“I wasn’t invited, I’m gate crashing,” he replied, and several people laughed.

Bucky knew it wasn’t that funny and felt the urge to grab his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, patting them while more eyes fell on him.

He fell silent as Steve started talking about the crowd capacity, the staff running around with countless stacks of his book.

“You’re signing all of these?” Bucky asked Steve in the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve replied. “If they want me to.”

“I’m gonna –” Bucky began, and he felt the room get suddenly smaller as he tried to find his voice again. “Have a… smoke and come back.”

“Okay, bud,” Steve said.

Bucky tried to gauge if he was at all annoyed with him but he couldn’t tell, and he turned his heel and walked out the back door. He pressed his back against the brick wall of the building and took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a few steady drags.

_Don’t make this about you, you selfish asshole._

He took out his phone, fumbling to unlock it before scrolling through his contacts. He tried to calculate the time in California by the time he chose Betty Ross’ number but he knew she’d pick up outside of her usual hours. When he called her to cancel their appointment when he was still in Europe she insisted he call her soon.

“Hey, can I speak to Betty?”

“May I say who’s calling?”

“James.”

He waits only half a minute before he’s transferred, and Betty greets him warmly.

“I… don’t know what to say,” he said. He took a drag from his cigarette and blew it out his nose, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Do you know why you called?”

“I’m at my friend’s book launch in New York and I’m trying not to shit my pants.”

He chuckled a little, nervous.

“He’s very important to you.”

“Yeah.”

“Bucky, it’s good that you’re there for him. You’ve been through a lot lately and he’d know it’s hard for you to be out in public sometimes.”

Sometimes? More like always. Bucky cleared his throat.

“I get scared.”

“That he’ll leave?”

“Yeah,” Bucky admitted. He wasn’t proud of that. Steve had never indicated that he’d ever stop being part of his life. Even when Bucky didn’t return his calls he was always there whenever he finally came back around and resurfaced.

“That’s okay.”

“I’m scared L.A. changed me too much,” Bucky said. He’d never said that before. Having Betty there listening to him seemed to bring it out of him.

“Has anyone ever told you that?”

“No,” Bucky said, but he was ready to argue with her on that. “But girls in my life told me I was an asshole and I can’t imagine being who I was helped that at all. It’s hard to explain.”

“The girls you were with, did they know you that well?”

“I… don’t think so.”

He thought of Rachel, and then Anastasia. He saw a billboard for that watch he advertised above a convenience store in Queens the other day and the image was jarring.

“That’s one of your biggest fears, Bucky, isn’t it? Not being accepted by the people around you.”

“I’m an actor, of course I want to be liked,” Bucky retorted, and then he sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He didn’t want people to truly know how insecure he was, but neither did he want special treatment or fake friends that only ever flattered him. He’d tried that before and it only left him feeling empty.

“I haven’t had any Xanax in a while.”

“That’s great.”

“So I can’t sleep.”

“I thought that might be an issue,” Betty replied, sounding sympathetic. Bucky could picture her head tilting at him, assessing him, her smiling face. “Risk-wise, are you doing okay?”

“I miss my girlfriend like crazy but I’m not gonna do somethin’ stupid.”

“I’ve noticed the more agitated you get the more Brooklyn your voice goes.”

Bucky laughed, surprised by the joke. He thought of Steve, and threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it.

“I need to get back,” he said, and Betty made a humming sound on her end.

“You can call me any time, I promise I’ll be here to listen.”

The fact that she could throw those words around so easily and be genuine was incredible to Bucky, but all he replied with was:

“Yeah, thanks. See ya.”

He hung up, carding fingers through his hair.

The event itself was all about Steve. Though he felt eyes watching him the entire time, at no point was there a mention of Bucky being present. He hung around the wings of the room as Steve spoke, talking about his process for writing and illustrating the book.

Bucky could recognize a few famous authors there but felt it wasn’t his place to approach them. He had very little in common with them, apart from the fact that people knew their names. Bucky tried his best to fade into the background when everyone was free to mingle. He sipped red wine and nibbled on cheese.

He had no appetite. His mom would not be happy, but she didn’t have to know about that. He stood by himself for a little while, until someone came up to him, a teenager with braces.

“I’m… so sorry,” she said, and she was blushing at him, her eyes wide. Her hands shook as she held up her phone.

“Don’t be,” Bucky said, feeling his stomach tense.

Emotional fans made him anxious, he couldn’t explain that without sounding like an asshole. Every once in a while they were fine, but too many of them made him feel like a fraud. The characters they fell in love with were not him, and he didn’t want to shatter that illusion but it was hard not to.

“Can I get a selfie with you? I’ve watched your movies since I was a baby.”

Jesus, how old was this girl?

“Oh, wow, thanks,” he said. “Sure, come here.”

He put his arm around her and felt her quivering and she took the photo.

“I went trick or treating as the Winter Soldier like, three years in a row.”

This kid was really sweet. Bucky gave her a proper look, eyes resting on hers. He could pretend he was someone else for her.

“I know it’s lame, but… you helped me get through middle school.”

Bucky nodded, smiling at her. She looked like she was close to tears.

“Thanks for coming over to me,” he said, and she blinked, surprised. “I was all by myself and feeling kind of anxious.”

He has never said so much to a fan. He usually asked them how their day was and say thank you, but this moment was so much more.

“That’s… I love you,” she murmured, going a deeper shade of pink.

He brought her into a hug, murmuring he loved her, too. She still shook with nerves as they separated but she smiled up at him. She gave a little wave and went back into the crowd, and Bucky stared after her.

“Hey.”

The voice made him jump and Bucky glared at the source – Sam Wilson was standing by with a copy of Steve’s book in one hand with a beer in his other, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“That was sweet.”

“You been here long?” Bucky asked, glancing at the crowd and finding Steve talking with a group of hipster-looking folk.

“Yeah, you?” Sam asked, and Bucky turned his eyes toward him.

Sam didn’t give a shit about who he was. Bucky smirked a little at his indifference.

“Yeah. You got a copy now?”

“My third,” Sam replied. “Steve said some guy you know bought the rights.”

“Yeah.”

Strange’s assistant had been in touch with Steve’s agent. Bucky had no idea where Strange was but he was apparently already working on a first draft of the film. The fact that Sam called Strange ‘some guy’ had Bucky wishing he could have the two men in the same room just to see what could happen.

“That new one you’re in…”

“Yeah?” Bucky grunted, and Sam smiled.

“Might actually go see that one.”

Bucky tilted his head. “Did the trailer work on you? Or did Steve convince you –?”

Sam began to laugh, and Bucky couldn’t help smiling at little at him.

“You’ve got no idea, huh?” Sam eventually said, and Bucky gave him a confused look.

He didn’t want to ask about it but Sam’s reaction was enough to keep him curious. Sam got out his phone and pulled up a new tab, searching for the _Death of a Marriage_ trailer Bucky had avoided. Sam turned his phone to the side to create a full screen, and handed it to Bucky.

Bucky swallowed, trying his best to not seem like his guts were churning with anxiety like they were. He could feel sweat on his palms already and he bit his lip as the video began to play.

There was the roar of a car engine with a black screen, and then some text:

_This movie doesn’t give a fuck, it just gives you hell._

Five stars and a reviewer’s name underneath. Bucky blinked a couple times, waiting for some switch like it was too good to be true.

_Everything about this is different._

A few frames of Jack and Natalie together, their wedding day, an argument in the grocery store with no sound but mouths open and screaming.

A few scant notes of a piano.

_Darcy Lewis is a revelation._

A few shots of Natalie’s hands that are smeared with blood, her shallow breaths the only sound. Then it cut to a shot of Jack kissing her, pulling her toward him with a smile on her face.

Bucky couldn’t describe what he was feeling, but it was overwhelming. He’d only seen the movie once and he thought he knew it well enough because he was in it, but the trailer was making another perspective for him. He was seeing it through new eyes.

_James Barnes’ most demanding and complex role to date._

“See?” Sam said, nudging him.

The final image of the trailer was of Natalie’s hand gripping the fence behind her during their first kiss, with the words slowly appearing beside her fingers:

_Love dies._

There was the chance that despite every glowing review that no-one would bother seeing the movie. Bucky saw the trailer view count was around the 10 million mark already and he stared at the number, Sam chuckling beside him.

-

Bucky went back to Steve’s after the party, his mind in several places at once. As much as he’d tried to be present the trailer had renewed some old anxieties, made him think of the worst case scenarios. He was truly happy for his friend’s success but having Strange in charge of adapting his graphic novel could be dangerous.

There were other fears that seemed somewhat childish as well but Bucky couldn’t ignore them. Steve could possibly clash with Strange over how his story was portrayed and it could damage Bucky’s relationships with the both of them.

Steve went to his refrigerator and got out a couple beers, opening them both and handing one to Bucky.

“To your book, man,” Bucky said, raising his drink.

“Thanks, bud.”

They both sipped, a smile playing on Steve’s lips.

“You have a good time?”

Bucky took another gulp, shrugging.

“It was okay. I didn’t want people fussin’…”

Steve shot him a look and Bucky glanced away, moving toward the couch and sitting down. He thought of kissing Darcy there and missed her.

“If you want to bail out of the movie though, I’d understand.”

“Why would I do that?”

Steve sat down beside him and leaned back, assessing his friend.

“It’s a lot. And I’m told I’m not entirely reliable,” Bucky murmured. “Plus I’m waiting to get sued every day.”

“I don’t think I’d trust anyone else with this as a movie project,” Steve said, which surprised Bucky.

“Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

Bucky felt his stomach twist, thinking about how insecure he was.

“I guess so.”

They fell silent, and Bucky could see there was a lot on Steve’s mind. He drank some more to pass the time, waiting for him to speak.

“I don’t wanna give you a hard time.”

“So don’t,” Bucky retorted, rubbing his eyes. “Just be happy I came.”

He sounded like such an asshole, but that was nothing new. Every time someone tried to help him he acted like they were a nuisance.

He shook his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being like this,” Bucky replied. “And being like this when I was crashing here.”

They don’t look at each other while they spoke. Bucky doesn’t know if he could.

“I’m trying to open up more, I’m still learning,” Bucky said, slow at first and then rushed at the end. He rubbed his eyes some more. “I phoned my therapist before.”

“You’re seeing someone?” Steve asked, his voice soft. There was no judgement, just maybe a little surprise.

Bucky nodded. “After the accident I… I went to a dark place.”

He only spoke to Steve about getting hit by that car once when he was in hospital, begging his friend to not let visitors come his way.

He felt Steve’s hand land on his shoulder and squeeze and he felt a wave of relief and sadness, a strange mixture.

“I don’t know how to say it,” he whispered.

It hurt the people closest to him, knowing that he tried to hurt himself, or at least planned to.

“Buck…”

“I’ve got borderline personality disorder.”

“Buck, it’s okay.”

Bucky felt tears in his eyes and he groaned, pressing his palms into his closed eyes, trying to push away the urge to cry.

“Fuck, I’m such a jackass.”

Steve just rubbed his arm, trying to soothe him. Bucky sniffled as his leg began to jiggle. He glanced at Steve, who was only giving him a sympathetic smile, understated but so loving.

“I was gonna kill myself.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Steve said, and he tugged him toward him and hugged him tightly.

Bucky grunted at the force of it before relaxing, sighing against him.

“Jerk,” he heard Steve mumble, his voice wavering.

“Punk,” Bucky replied, biting back a sob.

-

“Wassup, what are you wearing, cutie?”

Bucky smiled, hearing Darcy pick up after only a few short rings.

“What’re you wearin’?”

“I asked you first,” she retorted, and he chuckled.

He was readying himself for bed, hoping he could get a least a couple solid hours if he read something for a while. Hearing Darcy’s voice helped a lot.

“Sweatpants. Gonna go to bed soon.”

“Ohh, I love that. You probably look all rumpled and adorable…”

She gave a little wistful sigh before yawning.

“I’ve got a shoot tomorrow.”

“I know,” he replied. “And I’ll be the first million views on YouTube when they upload it.”

She giggled on her end. Bucky wished she was there to curl up with, but he still had to get through the next few days before heading back to L.A. The realtor needed him to sign more papers.

Darcy and Carol Danvers were doing a favour for a small band in L.A. that they knew through mutual friends and over the next few days they were shooting a low-budget music video for them. Carol took it upon herself to direct the video and Darcy wanted to do something fun while other projects were negotiated with her management.

“When are you back?”

She already knew the answer but Bucky was repeating himself over the last few days to assure her. The fact that she missed him at all was new. In other relationships he always got the feeling that the girls he knew were relieved to get away from him.

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Right. LAX eight P.M. It’s not like I’m counting down the hours.”

“Of course not,” he murmured, smiling to himself. His heart beat a little faster with anticipation.

-

The flight back was ordinary, and the only difference was his walk through the airport to get to a cab.

He heard a scream and he spotted Darcy running toward him and he caught her in a hug, lifting her up while the cameras flashed.

“Jesus,” he laughed, and Darcy kissed his face, wrapping her legs around his middle.

She had practically tackled him in front of the entire world but she didn’t care, and neither did Bucky. He didn’t care about anything else when he was holding her.

-

Bucky hung around the shoot all the next day. It was the final day of shooting the music video and Carol was constantly running around while also being part of it.

Darcy had a smear of paint on her cheek and spun around with a rainbow flag as her cape.

When Bucky was introduced to the band that morning he tried his best to fade into the background. The Guardians sounded a lot like a glam rock band and Bucky genuinely liked their sound.

“Dude, shut up,” Quill said, who was one of the lead singers. “I’ve watched your shit for years, even _Time Shell_.”

“We don’t say the T.S. words around here, Peter,” Darcy said, squeezing Bucky’s hand a little tighter. “We’re in a post T.S. world, now.”

“Those assholes telling you what to do, still?” Quill asked, and Bucky didn’t know what to say, he felt too many eyes on him at once. Quill just shrugged. “I get it. The Man’s always trying to hold us down, too. With… taxes and shit.”

“You pay your taxes,” piped up Gamora, who was a woman with green hair and dark skin.

“Still,” Quill said. “Darcy’s dope, though. I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thanks,” Bucky muttered.

Bucky sat behind the camera as they lip-synced through one of the choruses. Darcy had a handful of glitter she threw into the air with a smile. After they took a break, Carol gave Darcy a pointed look.

“Hey, babe?” Darcy asked, and Bucky glanced up at her.

“What?”

He realized what she was about to ask and shook his head.

“No, it’s your thing. I don’t wanna –”

“Come on!” Quill suddenly yelled, in between gulping down water. “It’d be sick to have the Winter Soldier in our video.”

Bucky made a face and Darcy moved toward him, hands going to his face. She gave him a short kiss on the lips and he felt his chest loosen already.

“Don’t… use your powers on me,” he whispered, kissing her back.

“Please?” she drew out the word, and he knew he’d do anything for her, anything she ever asked.

The rest of the band which included a sullen redhead named Nebula and the huge bass player named Drax all stared at Bucky, and he closed his eyes for a second, shaking his head.

“Okay.”

Everyone cheered. Darcy kissed him again.

“Enough of that, save it for the cameras,” Carol said, though she was smiling.

Carol only filmed Bucky for a few minutes, Darcy jumping up and down beside him while he smiled at her. It would only be the smallest cameo but The Guardians were thankful just the same. Bucky knew it would draw a larger crowd to their video and the band was important to Darcy.

“I will thank you in my Grammy speech,” Quill said, slapping Bucky’s shoulder way too hard. Bucky was just glad that Drax didn’t do the same.

Carol took Bucky and Darcy out straight after they wrapped, and they ended up at a karaoke bar downtown. She recorded some of it on her phone and put it up on Instagram, but thankfully she kept the clips of Bucky singing very short.

Bucky felt good, being there with people who liked his company. They never wanted much from him, just his company.

They rolled back to Darcy’s place very late, and Bucky knew he had to tell her the news now or he’d never get it out.

“I bought a place, in Manhattan,” he said, as Darcy switched her kettle on to boil water for tea.

She turned back to him, eyebrows high.

“Whoa. What?”

“I know it’s… in New York but I really like it. I want somewhere here, too.”

“You want to buy _two_ places?” Darcy said, and Bucky swallowed.

He tried not to interpret that as her calling him greedy. He didn’t like reminding people that he had more money than sense, but the fact was he was more than comfortable.

“You can live here, you know,” she murmured. “You just need to unpack at some point.”

His suitcase was still relatively full, sitting in Darcy’s room at the foot of her bed.

Bucky nodded, and Darcy gave a little sigh.

“You know, you don’t act like I’m a sure thing.”

He met her gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you ask me about buying a place in Manhattan first?” she asked, and Bucky looked away, feeling something like shame spread from his stomach.

He felt sweat on his hands.

“I just… I thought you might bail at the last second. I got a place that’s kinda big.”

That was an understatement but it was meant to soften the blow. Darcy just came over to the other side of the kitchen counter and pulled him into a hug.

“I love you and I promise –”

“I know,” Bucky murmured.

He needed to see Betty Ross again, get some more of this shit out of his system.

-

_“RKB Studios, what’s good?”_

Bucky was watching some entertainment news to see what people were saying about the new Guardians video and inevitably he came up during the segment.

 _“James Barnes is in the new video for rock group the Guardians of the Galaxy, confirming he is still dating_ Death of a Marriage _co-star Darcy Lewis. The video was uploaded this Thursday and rests on top of the_ YouTube Trending _page, glitter and face paint and all. RKB Studios is currently building their case against former Time Shell star James Barnes. Rumor has it that RKB Studios will be seeking compensation for their time and efforts spent on their former employee. Yikes.”_

The reporter was a fresh faced blonde girl who smiled through the misery she spat and it unsettled Bucky every time when he saw how unaffected people could be by his story.

“How can those people sleep at night?” Darcy murmured.

She walked into the living room, crossing her arms as she watched the TV. She sat on the arm of the couch and stroked Bucky’s hair. He was watching the screen through his barely parted fingers.

“On giant beds of money.”

“So, like you?” she murmured, kissing his crown.

“Yeah.”

They watched several clips of _Time Shell_ with more scathing reviews the reporter read out.

“How long are they going to keep you dangling?” Darcy murmured. “It makes me sick.”

She took out her phone, scrolling through some contacts. Bucky watched her with curiosity and she gave him a kiss on the lips before she moved off the couch, talking into her phone.

“Yeah, I’ve got a quote.”

He turned his head to watch her pacing around.

“James Barnes is worth 60 million dollars. That was the same amount RKB spent on the entire production of _Time Shell_. This impending lawsuit is extortion.”

“Darcy!” Bucky hissed, as he realized she must have called some press contact she had.

He got up from the couch, following her pacing, waving his hands.

“Stop it, babe, you’re gonna get –”

“Darcy Lewis,” Darcy said into the phone. “We know each other. I know that RKB only wants to use him as an example to their other actors and staff. They’re trying to ruin his career because he wanted a better role than a _Time Shell_ sequel.”

When she hung up, Bucky passed a hand over his face.

“You can’t do that.”

“I just did,” she replied, flashing a smile.

“Darcy…”

“I don’t want to work in an industry that gets away with shit like that,” she said, her voice beginning to rise. She shot him a fierce look. “They won’t destroy you. I won’t let them.”

“They are everywhere,” Bucky said. “And this is exactly what your team didn’t want you to do, because they could cut you off like _that._ ”

Bucky snapped his fingers and Darcy stared at him.

“You’ve got no idea, do you?” she murmured, and he sighed. “You didn’t even see the same movie as me at Cannes. At least, it feels like that sometimes.”

“Anyone could have played Jack.”

“ _No-one_ could have played him like you,” Darcy threw back. “You elevated it by just being there, don’t you get that? No-one would have seen the movie otherwise. No-one would have clicked on the trailer.”

“Then I’m not talented, I’m just famous,” Bucky said.

He turned his heel and walked out to the garden, fishing out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, sucking in the nicotine as fast as possible. News outlets would already be spreading Darcy’s quote like wildfire. He was surprised Wanda hadn’t called him already.

He watched Darcy follow him out, crossing her arms once more.

“I lost myself somewhere along the way. With what was real and what was… performance,” he murmured.

“Bucky. That’s the ideal method,” Darcy said. “You gave yourself up to become Jack? Some men never manage that. They think they get a glimpse of that but it’s never real.”

Bucky could handle her being so nice sometimes. It made him feel like a fraud. She seemed to read him and grabbed his spare hand, squeezing it.

“You deserve better than this,” she said, her voice firm. “Even if you were never a good actor, the studio can’t do this to you. They can’t abuse you into doing something that just makes them even more money.”

Bucky heard a buzzing and he knew it was Darcy’s phone and she let go of his hand to pull it out, sighing a little.

“Someone’s gonna scream at me.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that stuff, babe,” he muttered. “Not for me.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, unlocking her phone to answer it.

She made a face, as she waited for the voice on the other end.

Bucky smoked in silence as Darcy listened, her eyes growing wider.

“Are you fucking serious?”

She didn’t sound upset, and she looked shocked but excited.

“Seriously? Did they get the quote, too?”

When she hung up, she was smiling.

“What? What happened?” he said.

Darcy just began to laugh in disbelief, before coming toward him to kiss him. When she drew back, she was still smiling.

“Hey, so… _Vogue_ called.”

-

The shoot took place in several different locations over ten days. Bucky hadn’t done a photoshoot in what felt like the longest time and he quickly understood that he may have bitten off more than he could chew.

Darcy had some experience with modelling, but never something as high profile as _Vogue_. They both met editors and advisors, learned about the different clothes they had as options and then were told to try to stay the same appearance-wise for the next few weeks.

Bucky let his facial hair grow out, and Darcy kept her nails polish-free and tried her hardest not to order pizza more than once a week.

When the shoots finally began, they were stuck in front of the Hollywood sign with about a dozen people from _Vogue_ behind the cameras. Darcy wore a ball gown with the sun beating down on her while Bucky wore a sharp suit. It was meant to be a tea party by the Hollywood sign, as if Eliza Doolittle has stopped by on her great American expedition.

For most of the first day Bucky was told to look at Darcy, which was fine. His neck felt a little stiff by the end of it. They drove off that night in his Buick to get Cheesecake Factory for dinner.

Another spread was shot in and around Frank Lloyd Wright’s Hollyhock House in L.A. There were three kids hired for the day. The trio of brown-haired children posed as their children, as if the Hollyhock House was the ideal nuclear family home. Bucky signed everything the older two boys handed him, while the youngest boy was more drawn to the golden retriever that posed as their pet. Bucky’s favorite photograph from that day was of the six of them (including the dog) outside. Bucky was standing by an inflated pool, filling it with water. Darcy had the youngest boy resting on her hip with her hand up to cover her eyes from the sun. The two other boys were running around with the dog.

Several photos that were featured in the shoot were just behind the scenes photos with Darcy midway through getting her makeup and hair done. Bucky wanted a copy of a photograph that featured Darcy lining her lips while peering into a mirror, Bucky in the background, watching her with a dumbstruck look on his face.

The best day was the last day, when it was just a skeleton crew of people with Darcy and Bucky sitting in his Buick. They looked like engagement photos. Bucky pretended that was his whole world, even if it was just one day. His world was for several hours just his car with Darcy beside him.

-

Real life came flooding back. When Bucky didn’t hear about RKB for a few days, he felt dread settle in his guts like stones weighing him down and he kept chain smoking through phone calls with Betty Ross.

Darcy’s quote had been broadcast over and over, across continents and over the Internet. Talk show hosts spoke about Bucky every night still. Once Darcy became part of the conversation, she was getting a lot of flak from it and it made Bucky sick to his stomach. She was no longer safe.

Bucky kept wanting to pick up his phone and call the whole thing off, beg RKB for a truce of some kind just so Darcy’s whole life wasn’t picked apart anymore. People she hadn’t heard from since high school were coming out of the woodworks. People were harassing her family. Bucky was waiting for people to camp outside her place.

Wanda returned his call one night when Darcy was out and he picked up immediately.

“Tell me it’s good news.”

“They want a meeting. Face-to-face, neutral territory.”

There was no such thing in this town. Bucky walked outside and took out a cigarette, lighting it.

“Bucky, are you there?”

“Listen… can I just make it stop?” he murmured, blowing out that first drag. “Just… stop everything and have Darcy spared somehow? Or is it too late?”

“Bucky, she’s a grown woman and she said what she said.”

“She didn’t ask for this,” he said.

He didn’t remember the last time he slept through the night. Even with Darcy beside him he lay there for hours, hoping for relief that rarely came. He was moving further away from what he wanted with her – just some respite every day.

“I get it. The emperor never had clothes. I never thought I needed someone to pander to me, but she’s done nothing wrong,” he went on, “And I want her to be safe. I don’t want her to throw her life away on me.”

“She’s not doing that. The meeting could fix everything, you’ll get a new contract –”

“I don’t _want_ RKB anymore. It doesn’t matter if they want me.”

_“Bucky.”_

“I’m serious.”

Wanda sighed. “You owe them two movies.”

“I’ll do the two fuckin’ movies then,” he snapped.

He closed his eyes, mimicking her sigh.

“That was… I’m sorry. I’m sorry about my language, I know you’re in my corner,” he said. “I’m so scared.”

“I know. We can call them, tell them what you want. May can handle it.”

When Darcy returned hours later, she found Bucky lying on the couch and staring up at the TV.

“What did you have for dinner?”

He made a non-committal grunt and Darcy frowned.

“Buck…”

“I didn’t eat. Didn’t feel like it.”

The truth was he wasn’t hungry.

“I’ll make you something.”

She walked out and he took a few seconds to pull himself away from the TV, rubbing his face before following her into the kitchen.

“Darce, it’s fine.”

“You have to eat.”

“I won’t. I don’t want to,” he said, and Darcy paused at the refrigerator, sighing.

“So what do we do?”

“Go to sleep.”

“That’s not what you do,” Darcy retorted.

“Darce, if I could make this go away, would you let me?” he asked suddenly, and she turned back to him.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“No,” he said. “Never. I mean the vampires and the vultures…”

“You can’t go back to RKB just for me,” she said firmly. She slammed the refrigerator shut, and Bucky ducked his head.

“It would be two movies.”

“I don’t want that.”

“It would be two movies,” he said again. “And then I’d stop.”

“I don’t want to lose you!” she yelled, and he flinched.

They paused. Darcy squeezed her eyes shut, wincing at little at whatever thought she was having. Bucky stared at his bare feet for a second beside Darcy’s littler ones, her toenails painted red.

“It’s not about you cheating on me,” she muttered, sighing.

“I know.”

“It’s about you being on location somewhere for like, a year and I’ll be somewhere else. I know you’ll be hating every second of it. I know what that does to your head.”

Bucky nodded, working his jaw.

“I’ve got a meeting with the studio in two days. Wanda will come with me. And May.”

Darcy wrapped her arms around him without a word, hugging him tight. He pressed his lips to her forehead, trying to breathe in her calming scent around her hairline.

“I wanna get the fuck outta this town,” he muttered.

“We can… soon, if you want,” Darcy murmured into his shirt, her little hands on his back and rubbing. “You can show me the new place.”

She pulled back, her hands going to either side of his face, searching him.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he murmured.

She tilted her head toward his, standing on tip-toe to kiss him and Bucky closed his eyes, his hands resting on her waist. She shuffled him back toward the counter and pressed him against it.

They made out for a few minutes and Bucky felt light-headed when they finally pulled away. Darcy’s pupils were blown as she stared into his eyes, her hand going between them to squeeze his shaft in his sweatpants.

Bucky grunted, canting his hips on instinct and Darcy suddenly knelt, her hands going to the waistband of his pants. She pulled everything down just enough to expose his cock to her and he licked his lips, anticipating her mouth on him.

“Holy shit, baby,” he gasped, because he couldn’t stop himself, he really couldn’t. Not with her pink tongue running along the underside of his dick. She teased the head and he grit his teeth. She went for it, taking him to the back of her throat and relaxing around him. When she began to bob her head up and down he moaned, his hand going to the side of her face before threading his fingers through her hair.

_“Fuck.”_

She pulled back with an audible pop and he bit his lip, his chest heaving. She shoved him again, pinning his hips to the counter and he grunted a little.

“I’m gonna come so fast, baby –” he said it with a breathy laugh.

“Don’t be embarrassed, I want you to come,” she murmured, before taking him in her mouth again with her wide eyes staring up at him.

With her hallowed out cheeks and sucking mouth Bucky barely held on for another minute before his come hit the back of her throat. He all but stumbled when it happened, panting as she swallowed, licked away everything and pulled away from him. She even pulled his pants back up before standing up again.

“Come to bed,” she murmured, before he kissed her clumsily, his drowsiness finally getting to him.

He practically fell onto the mattress, stripped bare as Darcy climbed in next to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind and burying her face into the back of his neck.

“You sleepy?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

What the hell did he ever do to deserve her? She’d sucked him dry and put him to bed, like he wasn’t the cause of all her problems. In the end, he managed to sleep a few hours before waking up somewhere between 2 and 4AM and waited a long time for her to wake up.

-

May Parker wore a sharp pinstripe blazer with her glasses sitting on top of her head. Wanda was dressed the same as she usually did, with her own blazer sleeves pushed up to her elbows, her nails bitten down again.

Bucky considered it a big deal that he decided to wear a button down shirt instead of sweatpants and a dirty white t-shirt. The cool conference room in May’s offices was enough to warrant his leather jacket.

Darcy sat beside him with her glasses on, one of her hands under the table for him to hold.

RKB sent five lawyers and two executives. It was five against one if they were going by lawyers, but seven against four if they went by teams. It still felt overwhelmingly unfair, despite the fact that they’d agreed to meet in May’s territory.

“My client is here to negotiate,” May began, placing her hands on the table. “James Barnes has been nothing but agreeable during this situation and I think it should be acknowledged by everyone present.”

The girl writing minutes looked up for a second and May shot her a look. The girl pressed on.

Bucky didn’t think anyone sitting opposite him gave the tiniest shit about him. He knew that it was about pride now, and pride got people killed for far less.

“Mr. Barnes’ contract is very explicit about giving unfavorable interviews about RKB productions. He is not allowed,” one of the suits said.

When was the last time any of these people had sex? Bucky got the feeling they got off on this – the verbal back and forth.

“Mr. Barnes has endured acute emotional stress from this contract and acted impulsively. He always completed every other component of his contract.”

“He’s not entitled to benefits of his choosing,” another suit piped up.

Bucky stared at a spot on the table in front of him, his knee jiggling.

“James Barnes has earned RKB studios over a billion dollars over the last five years and has never refused a role until this year,” May countered. “He is a valuable asset to the company. He has indirectly employed hundreds of people, made many more actors successful by being a team player.”

“We already _know all this_ , May,” said a third suit, a woman with a black bob haircut and fake smile. “We’ve had this same conversation many times and never come to a certain conclusion. We want Mr. Barnes to fulfill the rest of his contract. Or we can move further toward compensation.”

“How much,” Bucky muttered, and the room fell silent, all eyes on him. “How much would you sue me for.”

He knew he didn’t sound like he was asking a question and he didn’t look anyone in the eye. Not because he was afraid of what he might see, but because he was close to throwing himself across the table and he knew how well that could turn out for him.

“Bucky,” May began.

He took a deep breath. “I want them to say it. Out loud.”

“One hundred,” the woman suit said, folding her hands together.

“One hundred… million?” May said, sounding outraged.

“That’s disgusting,” Wanda hissed, as Darcy squeezed Bucky’s hand.

Bucky already knew the answer to that. He couldn’t afford that, and they knew it. Even if he sold everything he owned, borrowed it from someone else, relinquished sales from DVDs and merchandise with his likeness, he’d still not have anywhere near enough.

He finally looked up, his gaze moving across each face. He wondered what they saw.

“Am I just going to have to state the obvious?”

Bucky turned his head toward Darcy, who’d suddenly found her voice. And Heaven help anyone on the receiving end of her scowl.

The girl writing minutes paused, her eyes widening.

“You’re all pissed because he said no. He made you money and he’s a good actor and you hate him for it,” Darcy went on.

May looked like she wanted to grab Darcy and pull her back down as she stood, leaning against the table and glaring at everyone across the table. Wanda seemed to have frozen.

“He said no.”

“He violated his contract –”

“Fuck the contact,” Bucky spat, glaring at the suit who tried to interrupt Darcy.

The love of his life was defending him and it felt good. He didn’t feel powerless, he felt so much stronger with her by his side. He should have known she’d be the cure. He should have _known_.

“He’s gonna make more money without you assholes holding him back,” Darcy said. “He doesn’t need you to make something decent. He’s got friends, and people respect him, which is more I can say for any of you pieces of –”

“Darcy, _seriously_ ,” May said, looking alarmed as well as amused. “I think they get it.”

She sat back down, clearing her throat. Bucky squeezed her knee, leaving his hand to rest on her thigh.

“He’ll do two more movies. He can pick both the movies he does. No _Time Shell_ sequel,” one suit said, sounding suddenly extremely vexed. So much for composure.

Bucky had already heard about them trying to replace him for that shitty sequel. He pitied the man who’d take it up. He made the mental note to send whoever landed the role a case of something high in alcohol content.

“One movie,” he said, eyes steady on the suit who’d spoken last.

“Two.”

“ _One_ ,” Bucky, Darcy, May and Wanda said together.

Bucky glanced among the faces.

“One and I get to pick the director, too.”

“ _Fine_ ,” the woman suit snapped.

Once the suits filed out they burst into cheers, and Bucky lifted Darcy off the floor while she squealed. He hugged Wanda and kissed May.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, and May flashed him a smile.

“You deserve it. I’m so happy for you.”

He brought her into a hug, and he felt like he was high. The relief was incomparable.

He finally pulled back and May looked touched.

“You… look after yourself, okay?” she murmured.

He nodded.

“I gotta go buy _furniture_.”

Everyone began to laugh.

-

“When are we gonna buy a clock?” Darcy asked.

She sat on Bucky’s lap with a spoon in her mouth, licking the remainder of the ice cream they shared from a little bowl. They were sitting at their brand new dining table with the blinds all the way up. The afternoon sun on Bucky’s skin made him warm and sleepy.

“What kind do you want?” he asked, and Darcy thought about it, licking her lips.

“We could get one of those cat ones that have a tail that swishes back and forth and their eyes blink.”

He smiled at her, knowing exactly what she meant.

“Might clash with other furniture.”

“You’re new money, baby, you can do whatever the hell you want,” Darcy said, and he chuckled.

There was still so much space with the two of them, even though they’d spent the last couple days unpacking.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face into her soft chest, rubbing his face on her shirt. He looked up at her with his chin still resting in the valley of her breasts.

“What do you want for dinner?” Darcy asked.

“You,” he replied easily, and she rolled her eyes.

“Apart from me.”

Bucky nuzzled at her, kissing her shirt.

“Bucky, that was a real question.”

“I’ve got a question.”

He looked up again, hoping this conversation was about to go well. He’d thought about bringing it up so many times in the last few days. Darcy stroked his hair, waiting.

“What are we gonna do with all this space?”

“Fill it with…” Darcy made a show of looking around. “Puppies. Lots of puppies.”

Bucky blinked a couple times, feeling his heart sink. Darcy broke into a smile.

“I’m just playing. I know what you’re asking,” she said. “Do you want kids?”

The way she was looking at him, he could have sworn she was hesitant, almost shy. She was hanging on his every word.

“With you?” he said, and she nodded. “Of course.”

“Oh,” she said, and she blushed. “That’s… I’m glad. That’s good.”

Bucky ended up asking Steve if he knew a good vintage place to find the cat clock Darcy was describing. It was easy enough to find and have sent to the penthouse in a couple days.

When it arrived, Darcy insisted she put it up, standing on a little footstool to place a little hook on the wall for the clock to rest on. She bounced back down and turned to Bucky, smiling.

Then she pointed behind him and he turned his head.

“Might clash with the chandelier.”

“I don’t care,” Bucky replied, and Darcy smiled again.

The chandelier came with the penthouse. Maybe one day they’d take it down. Bucky didn’t like walking under it. It didn’t matter how beautiful it was.

“Hey,” Darcy suddenly said, and she took Bucky’s hand in hers.

“What?”

“Did you know…?”

 “Yeah?” Bucky prompted, as she began to walk him back toward the couch.

She tugged him down and he sat, his arm around her shoulders.

“Did you know that I’ve been on the pill for ten years?”

Bucky blinked. “I didn’t.”

He could see that she was nervous. Her eyes kept checking his face to gauge his reactions.

“I’m… stopping. I stopped taking it this morning.”

She was giving him the chance to make a choice. They had all those rooms, too much space for just two people. Bucky felt his stomach flip.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Darcy took a moment to consider her words.

“I’m willing to let things play out whichever way. We don’t have to start trying, but we can –”

“I wanna start trying,” Bucky blurted, and Darcy’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“I want to start trying, too,” she said.

His heart was racing and he kissed her, holding her as close to him as he possibly could. Their mouths slanted together and he licked her mouth open and slipped his tongue inside. She moaned, her hands threading through his hair and tugging him toward her.

It was good to know she was just as needy as him, her eyes blown with arousal when they finally broke apart. Their noses brushed and Darcy chuckled.

“You know it won’t happen straight away, right? It takes a couple cycles.”

“No harm in practising,” he replied, and she laughed.

He lay her down on the couch and started taking off her clothes, kissing each part of her skin that was revealed. He paid close attention to her stomach, pressing tender kisses there.

“I’m gonna get really squishy,” Darcy murmured.

“I like squishy,” Bucky said, rubbing his face a little, trying to picture her tummy swollen with their baby.

He tried to bury his face between her legs, hearing her breathy laughter as he laved her cunt, feeling all the soft pink parts of her, nudging her clit with his nose. He loved her. He loved the taste of her, the feeling of her on his mouth, fingers and cock. He loved her so completely he thought his heart could explode.

He was tearing up by the time she came on his tongue with his two fingers pumping her. He wiped his eyes with his hand, still licking her down from her great height.

He stayed down there for a while, his dick aching to be touched. This was all he wanted, Darcy pliant in his arms, staring up at him dreamily with the taste of her on his tongue, her arousal smeared all over his skin.

“Bucky, you made your point,” she gasped, after her third orgasm.

He pressed the pad of his thumb against her asshole and she whimpered. He knew that always drove her crazy and maybe he wasn’t playing fair. He’d been at it for over an hour and her thighs were looking pink and very sensitive from his beard rubbing against her.

Just one more. He swirled his tongue around her clit and she clenched, biting her lip. When she came, she shoved herself up against him as she rode out the wave. Her thighs shook and she let out shout. Bucky felt a fresh gush against his chin and he groaned, his dick pressing into the couch again and again, desperate for friction.

Darcy panted weakly and Bucky finally drew back, wiping his mouth again with the back of his hands. He was equally out of breath, staring down at her.

He felt another intense wave of emotion and tried to tamper it down, biting back an outright sob as he moved back to strip off his clothes.

His underpants were wet with precome. He was surprised he managed to last so long dry humping the couch. He gathered Darcy in his arms once more and she hooked her leg over his hip to draw him in.

They gasped when he tilted his hips enough to push inside her, filling her to the hilt in one smooth motion.

He’d never get used to this. She was so warm, wet and tight that he wondered how he was ever supposed to not want to make love to her every second of the day. How was he meant to ever be without her ever again?

Except it wasn’t just that she felt so good when he was inside her. It was how she looked up at him, how she kissed him with just as much passion, it was how she stayed with him despite everything.

He was gentle at first but that could only last so long, especially when Darcy pleaded in his ear:

“Harder, fuck me harder, please? Please?”

He moaned, slamming into her and she cried out. He could feel he was already close, that need to release all that longing and tension.

They moved chest-to-chest, kisses clumsy as they panted together. Both Darcy’s heels dug into his ass as he bucked into her, one of his hands squeezing her tit, the other between them to play with her clit.

“We’re gonna wreck this couch, huh?” he panted, and Darcy began to laugh breathlessly again.

They laughed together, only to dissolve into moans as Bucky drew ever closer, his balls tightening.

“Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God…!”

Darcy cut herself off with a ragged breath, clenching around him, her whole face and neck turning a bright pink once again.

Bucky lasted a few more thrusts, pulling her hips against his and spilling inside her. He rutted over and over until his knees buckled and he all but fell on top of her, gasping for breath.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” Darcy replied, sounding far away. She hummed sleepily, drawing him into a hug.

Bucky lay his head on her chest and Darcy gave a little sigh, sounding content.

He tilted his head to meet her gaze, her eyelids hooded. She looked wrecked.

“So we agree, that was terrible?” he said, and they laughed together once more.

He moved down, kissing her stomach before dozing off, his face resting across her navel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to acaseofthemondays for sharing another music recommendation. Rightly so, she said Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me also applies to sweet, sad lil' Buck. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	16. Part Sixteen: Bucky Barnes, I am so in love with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been walking around in a daydream for days, knowing this has an end and that I will have to write it, to do it justice, to complete something... I have never in all my years of writing creatively felt so close to my protagonist. I love him dearly and I am the proudest I have ever been with my writing. I know this is just fanfiction, I know that it's just inside my head, but believe me when I say that writing this and meeting so many new people through this particular AU has helped me get through rough times, helped me get out of bed in the morning. This final chapter is over fifty pages, 23k words and it took a very long time to fully develop as an ending you deserve.  
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading.

_Lately I'm a desperate believer_  
_But walking in a straight line_

\- "Straight Lines" by Silverchair

 

 

 _This time, I'm gonna be stronger_  
_I'm not giving in_

\- "Not Giving In" by Rudimental

 

 

 _But I'm free_  
_Ooh, I'm free_

\- "Brooklyn Baby" by Lana Del Rey

 

 

 _Sometimes you make me feel_  
_Like I'm living at the edge of the world_  
_Like I'm living at the edge of the world_  
_It's just the way I smile, you said_

\- "Plainsong" by The Cure

 

 

**Part Sixteen: Bucky Barnes, I'm so in love with you**

 

 

Bucky hadn’t felt rain in months, and he’d truly missed it.

He and Darcy were grabbing food for their dinner one afternoon when the downpour caught them off-guard. The humidity had been high for the last two months, which Bucky had not missed about New York.

As they raced under cover when their cab pulled up back home, Darcy was laughing. She was infectious as always, and Bucky felt a smile spread across his face. Rain water went everywhere as they kicked off their shoes.

“It’s Thor’s Day,” Darcy laughed.

“What?”

“Thursday – Thor’s Day.”

As if on cue, there was a flash of lightning followed by a clap of thunder.

“Holy shit,” Bucky said with a chuckle, as Darcy’s eyes widened.

-

It was pouring with rain when Bucky finally went back to see Betty Ross in person. It almost ever rained in L.A. and Bucky felt like he was bringing the bad weather with him.

Darcy started shooting her newest project in Quebec. Bucky made a compromise. To keep himself focused while alone in L.A. he promised to see Betty at least once while packing up the rest of his life in California. After two months of domestic bliss, the idea of returning to his bachelor pad filled with loneliness and pills frightened him more than he could ever admit.

Once he landed he went straight to Betty’s building, sitting in the waiting room and dripping water all over the floor. He shot Betty an apologetic look when she came to retrieve him.

“This is a different town right now,” Betty joked, and Bucky let out a short laugh.

In all truth, he was nervous. _The Death of a Marriage_ was having a limited release that week and so far there wasn’t much to go by in terms of the public’s consensus of the film. Darcy was in Canada and he had to survive without her. He was feeling vulnerable.

He followed her into her office, thinking of the only other time he was there. He could have sworn he was doing better, but Betty’s chairs and tissue box combination transported him back to before Cannes, when all he could think about was no longer being on Earth, hurting so much.

He cleared his throat as he sat, while Betty looked at him expectedly.

“How are you?”

“I’m okay, just… weird,” Bucky replied.

There was a flash and a clap of thunder, and window Bucky was looking out of rattled. The rain sounded louder.

“Jesus, it’s really coming down.”

Betty nodded. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me… me, too,” Bucky muttered. Then he sighed. “I’m really missing Darcy today.”

“I know that coming back here wasn’t something you wanted,” Betty said, picking up her pen and notebook. “Especially considering the last time you were here.”

“I don’t want to go back to that place,” Bucky said. He’d thought that for a while, and it was good to say it aloud. “Never ever.”

“So, risk-wise –?”

“I can’t sleep,” he interjected. “But it’s like…”

He shrugged, shaking his head.

“Things are going better. So what’s the problem?”

“You have a lot to deal with, still,” Betty said. “And your diagnosis is daunting.”

Every time he was Darcy in the last two months, he was almost constantly smiling or on the edge of laughing. He was in love, falling for her more and more each day but they lived in the real world. He still had the problems from before he met her, if not more problems since falling in love.

The lived with the legitimate fear that one day he would lose her, through his own mistakes or some cruel part of life.

“I think of my dad more when I’m with her,” Bucky whispered, and he felt a twist in his gut. “And I know that has something to do with the disorder.”

“Do you want to talk about him?” Betty asked, her voice soft.

It was like she was trying to dip her toe in a still pond, hoping ripples would not form. It was almost impossible to not feel hurt every time he spoke about his childhood.

“She said a couple months ago that I don’t treat her like a sure thing. And she’s right.”

He stared at the tissue box on the table in front of him. His eyes stung.

“Ah…. fuck,” he sighed, feeling tears begin to fall already.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” he murmured. Bucky wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and finally looked Betty in the eye. “Really, I’m doing pretty good compared to the last time.”

“I’m glad.”

“Dad’s been dead for a long time. Doesn’t feel that way,” he muttered. “I think about how good he was, how he tried so hard. I don’t know if I could ever compare to that.”

“Bucky…”

“I just mean as a parent,” he added, and Betty tilted her head. “Darcy and I – we want kids. We’re trying right now.”

“Oh,” Betty said, her eyes widening. “That’s… huge.”

“You think that’s bad.”

“No!” Betty said. “If that’s what you want. I think you’ll make a great father.”

“I… don’t know about that,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I mean, I’ll try.”

“That’s more than some people ever do, Bucky,” Betty said. “Maybe you can tell me some good memories you have with your dad. The ones that make you think about how good he was.”

Bucky forced a smile, but he felt a little better. He immediately thought of a particular story and gave a short laugh.

“He let me wear his sunglasses whenever we were out together.”

Betty smiled.

“Like, huge glasses on my tiny head when he’d have me on his shoulders walkin’ around the block, seein’ his friends,” Bucky went on. “I was like a boom box just goin’ and goin’. He’d laugh the whole time.”

“When was this?”

“I was three,” Bucky said.

“Is that your earliest memory?” Betty asked. She was still smiling, intrigued.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.”

“He sounded like the type of person to be just so full of love for you,” Betty said.

Bucky looked away, thinking of his dad seeing him now. Just that morning, yet another news outlet compared him to Shia LaBeouf.

“I… Yeah, he was.”

“He was showing you off to the world,” Betty added. “What’s going on for you now?”

“I feel like a piece of shit.”

“Where do you feel that, in your body?” Betty asked.

He blinked. “I dunno. I guess my gut.”

“I think you should name it, that thought. It’s the ‘I’m a piece of shit’ thought. It doesn’t necessarily make it true.”

Bucky nodded, but he didn’t know how to believe her. They fell into a silence and Bucky could see Betty was carefully considering her words.

“I don’t know how to tell myself I’m a good person,” Bucky said.

There was another flash of lightning.

“See, how is that not a sign?” Bucky added, gesturing to the window.

Thunder followed. The storm was moving further away, but the rain was not stopping. Betty shook her head at him but she was smiling.

“Look to other people. The ones who matter,” she said. “They wouldn’t be around you if you weren’t a good person.”

“Maybe they’re just there because I’m rich and famous,” Bucky said without thinking. He shook his head. “Nah, that ain’t Steve. Or Darcy.”

“Exactly.”

He felt a buzz in his jeans pocket. He forgot to turn his phone off. He took it out, turning it over to see the notification.

_Call me._

It was Wanda. He glanced at Betty.

“I need to call my agent,” he said, and she nodded, understanding.

Betty left the room while he phoned Wanda. She picked up immediately, sounding out of breath.

“Listen, before you say anything you have to know that it’s bullshit -”

“Wanda, I’m with my therapist.”

He thought back on the last couple of days, and he couldn’t remember telling Wanda he was coming back from New York. He gave a little groan.

“Shit. I meant to tell you I was here.”

“Are you kidding me? Why don’t you ever use your phone?” Wanda snapped, and he couldn’t help laughing. She sounded incredulous but she chuckled.

“I’m sorry. At least I called you back.”

“So you haven’t looked at reviews online? One came out a couple hours ago and it’s mean as hell.”

Bucky’s heart sank. He closed his eyes. It sounded like just the beginning.

“Who wrote it?”

“Just some guy.”

“But if it was –”

Wanda cut him off. “He has a reputation for being a mean asshole.”

If he had a reputation, he wasn’t some anonymous troll. His words had weight. He might turn the tide of good reviews away from the shore.

“And the sentiment about me especially?” he asked.

Wanda sighed.

“There was a Lindsay Lohan joke or two. A Britney one, as well.”

Jesus Christ. Bucky tried to take a steady, big breath.

“Bucky, it’s bullshit.”

“You haven’t seen it,” he replied. “And maybe they’re right. I’m seeing it through a different lens to the people outside.”

Wanda sighed. “Alright. I won’t argue with you today.”

Bucky hung up on her, stomach twisting. She was getting sick of him again.

It was like the time he ran away all over again, and she was about to drop him. He had no idea what he was meant to do without her. No other agent would touch him.

But maybe it just meant retiring earlier than ever. He’d do Steve’s adaptation and then tap out, live in Manhattan.

Something about that being an option wasn’t entirely assuring, though. It still meant the world remembered him, but not necessarily for who he truly was. He was a soundbite now. He wouldn’t have a chance to right any wrongs.

Betty came back, shutting the door behind her. She searched his face and her mouth parted in shock.

“What is it?”

“I should go,” Bucky said.

He was sitting around talking about his childhood and whining about how unfair the world was when Strange’s film was about to shit on.

He was being ridiculous.

“Bucky,” Betty said. “What happened? Please tell me.”

He shook his head. “It’s… Thank you. For everything. I’m just – I’m just –”

He got up, looking out the window to see it was still raining, but not as heavy as before. Betty kept looking at him like she wanted to say more, but she wasn’t stopping him.

When he left he thought of being on his father’s shoulders all those years ago. He felt the rain on his head and he pulled his hoodie tighter around him, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and taking one out.

He needed to think. He just needed a second to piece himself back together before –

“Hey!”

He turned toward the voice and saw a guy holding up his phone, taking a picture of Bucky standing in front of the office entrance.

“Don’t, man,” he said, holding up a hand. “Don’t do that.”

There was a distinct camera shutter sound from the stranger’s phone. Bucky’s jaw ticked. And then he remembered there was the sign behind him, with the word ‘counselling’ in it.

His heartbeat picked.

“Delete that. I’ll pay you to delete that.”

The guy blinked at him. “No. It’s my phone.”

“Come on, man. Delete it.”

Bucky moved a little closer to him and the guy only continued to hold up his phone, shaking his head.

“Seriously, man. Stop.”

Bucky stared him down, putting his cigarette to his lips. He got out his lighter and cupped the flame. The rain made it a trickier task.

Bucky relented, turning away from the guy and looking around to find his car. The guy was still hanging around and recording him. Bucky shook his head, stalking off toward his Buick.

He’d driven there from the airport, after his car was in the long-term parking lot for two months. He loved his car, but in that moment he didn’t want to be driving himself anywhere. He wanted to physically run away, but the stranger would most likely record him doing that. He thought a quick getaway would be less embarrassing.

He unlocked his car and got in, key in ignition the second his door slammed shut. He took a deep breath and reversed out of his spot before peeling off into the street. The glanced behind him and saw a car follow after him.

“Fuck.”

He didn’t know what to do. He meant to go to his hotel room but he had no desire to lead the stranger back there. Most likely more people would flock to the hotel. Bucky needed to lose this guy as soon as possible.

He took off, the rain beating down on his windscreen as he took a different turn than his usual one. He sped past several cars but still could make out the shape of the Hyundai following him from before. He cut across a couple lanes, warranting a few angry beeps from the other cars. He needed to get further out, away from so many people. He needed to slip away somewhere.

He took an exit, hating his car for being even slightly distinct. He should have bought a Prius like so many other people, something black and forgettable. He kept glancing in the rear-view mirror, and every time the same Hyundai was there, barrelling toward him.

His cigarette had stopped burning, hanging uselessly between his lips as he made his way down a steeper road. He glanced around, recognising he was closer to some hills. He could ditch the car and run away if he was far enough. Call for an Uber somewhere and lose this guy.

Why wasn’t money enough to offer him for privacy? Bucky was surprised to feel angry tears gather in his eyes but he blinked them away, trying to shake off the feeling.

He could see he was closer to the place he took Darcy months ago, when he suggested hiking at night. The road was rougher like he remembered, but now it was raining.

It wasn’t the best combination for driving like an idiot. He kept slowing down for other cars he came across, trying not to just run straight into them. He saw the Hyundai again and felt the panic rising once more. He overtook someone suddenly and felt a jerk, like something pushed his Buick to the side.

His tires were slipping.

He didn’t even have time to slam on the brakes. He was on the wrong side of the road, and then there was no road, just an edge and he flew. He couldn’t believe it was happening and yet it had to be, because the pain came soon after.

There was the sound of glass breaking and metal crushing as he felt flipped – he was upside-down and then slammed down, down into his seat. It felt like his skeleton could leave his body.

He’d braced himself somewhere along the way. He must have because he was blinking away everything, his head pounding. He looked around, hearing his car idling with the rain still beating down on the outside.

He grunted, feeling his left arm was tingling. He looked down, and gasped.

It was definitely broken. It didn’t look right. He winced, trying to move his arm out from between his side and the door.

Any blood?

His hands were wrecked, probably from grabbing something sharp or from the glass flying everywhere. His left arm was useless, but at least he was right-handed. He grabbed the door and tried opening it. He failed, only to start kicking it before it finally moved.

He grunted as he pushed himself out, landing on the ground beside the Buick.

There were people yelling out to him, and he saw the man from before with his phone out recording him.

Bucky lay on his back on the ground, the rain falling down on him. He gasped for breath, glancing at the Hyundai driver, nodding at his own body beneath him.

“I’m bleeding, is that what you needed?”

He guy didn’t seem disturbed by his aggression. A woman with dreadlocks hovered, her eyes wide.

“I’ll call 911.”

“Don’t,” Bucky said. It was automatic, but he knew there was no point arguing. He was in no condition to run away.

Other drivers had pulled over, murmuring his name and taking photos.

Bucky tried to sit up, but the dreadlocked woman shook her head, finally kneeling beside him with her hands up.

“Don’t move.”

Bucky sighed. He reached down to his pocket with his good hand and found his cigarettes again with his lighter. He fumbled a little but managed to light one on his own.

Everyone watched him, lying on the ground smoking while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. Bucky slicked back his hair, glancing at his car a couple times.

It was beyond repair. It deserved better. He sighed again.

People began to back off when the paramedics arrived. The paramedics were a man and a woman, the pair of them seeming already pissed off by the situation.

“Everyone, back off. He needs urgent medical attention.”

He was thoroughly inspected, a flashlight in his eyes.

“I ain’t concussed,” Bucky snapped, and the female paramedic just tilted her head at him, one eyebrow quirking.

“You an expert? Were you speeding up this hill, Mr. Barnes?”

She was no-nonsense, and he tried his hardest to remain pissed off with her but it wasn’t working. She was too gentle, her gaze too understanding.

“You a cop?”

She shook her head. “You on anything?”

“Nah.”

The male paramedic suddenly waved his arms like windmills.

“Back off!”

“We gotta go,” Bucky said, trying not to seem as panicked as before. His eyes widened a little at the female paramedic, imploring her.

“Your arm is definitely broken. Hey, Mike.”

The male paramedic turned. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Just need to secure his arm when we get inside.”

She helped him up, Mike yelling at people to move back as they made their way to the ambulance. Bucky ducked his head, climbing inside and sitting down on the stretcher.

“Fu- _uck_ ,” he said, feeling more pain radiating from his arm.

He was suddenly feeling it so much more. The shock must have started to wear off.

“You want us to call anyone?” Mike asked, and Bucky nodded to his left side.

“My cell.”

Mike ducked out to go back around to climb into the driver’s seat while the other paramedic stayed beside Bucky, cutting his shirt away to reveal his bare arm. She paused for a second to pull out his phone and hand it to him.

“What’s your name?”

She shot him a look. “Claire. Claire Temple.”

“My girlfriend will want to talk to someone the second I tell her where I’m going, so it’ll be nice to put a face to a name.”

Claire sighed, shaking her head. “Alright.”

He dialled Darcy’s number, and while he waited Claire began wrapping his arm up. He hissed in pain.

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby. Quick thing,” he said, and Claire pressed her lips together.

“What?”

She sounded carefree. He hated he was about to take that away from her.

“Had a… an accident. Broke my arm.”

He tried to keep any fear out of his voice and it took all of three seconds for the words to register.

_“What?”_

He was sure Claire could hear her from where she was sitting.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“What… happened?”

“I flipped the Buick, it’s gone. I killed it,” Bucky said.

She might leave him for this. The thought only just occurred to him, and his leg began to jiggle with nerves.

“You haven’t been doing pills.”

“I know. I was stupid. A guy followed me from Betty Ross’ place and I was speeding –”

He felt a wave of shame. He could have killed someone, how could he have done that? He passed a hand over his face.

“What guy?”

“He took a photo of me outside her place and he followed me. He filmed me leaving the place, I think.”

“Bucky…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling his chest tighten. “I freaked out. Wanda told me about a review.”

“Yeah, she called me after you hung up on her.”

“I’m such an asshole,” he whispered.

He covered his face from Claire’s view and felt a sob bubble up. He was frightened again, with Darcy so far away. He felt useless, like his broken arm now wrapped up.

He hadn’t even registered they were driving somewhere. He wiped his eyes roughly, glancing at Claire.

“Where’re we goin’?”

“Cedars-Sinai,” Claire murmured. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

Did it make him a coward to ask for help? Shouldn’t he act like a grown man? He hesitated. Darcy was saying something in his ear, something urgent.

“I can get the next flight down.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice firm. “Don’t skip work.”

Claire nodded at his phone.

“I can talk to her. You broke your _arm_.”

Bucky moved the phone away from his ear, giving a low groan as he handed it to Claire.

She began to talk in a calm voice, and Darcy immediately lowered her volume while Bucky waited, looking down at his scraped right hand. He couldn’t hear what Darcy was saying, but he hoped she wasn’t about to run off her set to find him.

Claire explained what happened to him, telling her where they were going and what would happen. He’d be processed through the emergency room and most likely would leave the hospital in several hours. She even laughed a couple times, before handing the phone back to Bucky.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, and Darcy gave a little sigh.

“It’s a good thing you’re so good looking.”

He chuckled, and then Claire motioned him wrapping it up.

“I’ll call you soon.”

“I love you,” Darcy said. “I wish I was there.”

“I’ll be okay. Just stay there. I _love_ you.”

He hung up eventually. He winced as Claire cleaned his hands and wrapped them up. He’d been ignoring the pain for a while and he no longer could put it off anymore, not with the ambulance rocking him back and forth as they hurtled along the road.

He checked his phone again and saw Wanda tried to call him, probably when he was speaking to Darcy. He sent her a message:

_I’m guessing you’re seeing stuff posted online. I’m okay. Just stupid. Sorry for scaring you._

He sent more or less the same message to Steve and his mom, hoping neither of them thought he’d died.

He was transferred to the emergency room, Claire giving him one last look before she took off.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, and she just shook her head a little.

“You’ve got a good thing going, okay?” she said, and he nodded. “Don’t do this again.”

He knew he was lucky to be alive. Apparently his car had already been towed away. Wanda sent back several messages about TMZ running a piece, other outlets picking it up.

Bucky was just glad Darcy hadn’t flipped out. He supposed his priorities were a little screwed up to say the least if he wasn’t freaking out about cheating death yet again. His mood changed as soon as he was left alone.

He hated hospitals, which he knew would never change. The smell of them alone brought back so many painful memories and he wanted a cigarette badly. He watched staff and patients hurry by as he waited for someone to attend him. The nurse who arrived at his side took one look at him and sigh.

“Well, okay, then. _You_.”

“Yeah, me,” Bucky replied, feeling like a reprimanded child. He looked down at his lap and felt the nurse inspecting his arm, checking his chart.

“You know you’ve got so much to live for,” she murmured, and Bucky’s eyes shot up to hers.

“Yeah.”

“So what are you doing here?”

“I crashed my car. Someone was following me,” he replied. “I’m not suicidal.”

She said nothing to that, shaking her head at his chart a little.

“Open your mouth.”

He obeyed, and she tutted.

“Yeah, you’re dehydrated,” she said, and she left a second later.

She returned with an IV, hooking it on the metal pole by his bed. She prepared to insert the needle.

“Little sting.”

Bucky watched because if he looked away he was afraid he’d jolt with shock. It didn’t hurt as much as his throbbing arm and hands.

“Can I get something for the pain?” he asked.

“Doctor’s seeing you in a second.”

She left him and he sighed, staring at the ceiling.

The doctor came with a couple students, and Bucky felt like he was under a microscope by the way they were staring at him. He didn’t need surgery, but he’d need a splint and then a cast after the swelling went down.

“You got somewhere to be?” the doctor asked, and Bucky shook his head.

“Not… really.”

He didn’t want to know what any of these people were thinking. He was all over the news, being a reckless idiot and by all accounts he was a washed up actor. He was at the supernova stage, and soon he’d turn into a black hole. The longer he was at the hospital, the more he thought of the last time he was in one, with the bruises all over his body, his pills waiting for him at his hotel.

He started dialling numbers on his phone, wondering how he was meant to get out of this. He was by himself, his arm in a splint without a clean shirt. There could be paparazzi outside the building waiting for him.

He reached Wanda first.

“Listen, I wanna go – I just – I need to go, okay?”

“Bucky, they’ll release you probably tomorrow.”

“I don’t need to stay, I just have to get a cast in a couple days.”

“You can rest for a little while.”

He chewed his lip. “Nah, I wanna go.”

“Okay, I’ll call some people and you can call your therapist. She’s probably worried.”

He felt a pang of guilt. He should have stayed at Betty’s office. He could have avoided this whole thing if he’d kept his head out of his ass.

Betty answered the phone instead of her secretary.

“Are you okay? I saw the news.”

“I’m sorry I bailed. I broke my arm. I didn’t mean to. I drove off the road because this asshole was following me. He saw me come out of your building.”

Betty sounded appalled, began asking questions about what the guy looked like and what type of car he drove. Bucky had never heard her angry before. He was just glad that she wasn’t demanding he explain himself, and he didn’t have to convince her that he wasn’t wanting to harm himself.

“I can’t believe some people,” she finished, sighing. “How could he violate your privacy like that? He was probably seeing a different therapist here.”

“Maybe he was behind on his rent. He’d have sold what he recorded for a decent amount.”

Bucky wanted to shrug but there was no-one there to see it. On her end, Betty began to laugh softly. He pictured her smile.

“You are very understanding. And forgiving.”

“I guess so.”

“But not so much of yourself,” she added.

“Hey, you’re not on the clock,” he replied, trying to mask how suddenly awkward he felt, being probed from miles away. “Unless you wanna fax me an invoice to this hospital. I might be here a little while longer.”

She chuckled. “Okay. I’ll stop. But call me sometime soon and let me know how you are.”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah.”

When he hung up, he went online. The reports of his car accident were at varying stages of speculation, but there was an overriding theme of concern. One headline stuck out:

_Is James Barnes Ok?_

There were pictures of him lying on the ground and smoking a cigarette, his hands bloody, his left arm looking limp and swollen around the break. The article beneath analysed the incident to a maddening degree, only to come to the conclusion that he had to be suffering from some kind of chronic stress.

Yeah, no shit.

_James Barnes, 32, mega-star of films such as The Winter Soldier and Escape the Cape was rushed to hospital this afternoon after flipping his car. Witnesses reported the actor was petulant towards fans that gathered to rescue him from the crash –_

Bucky crossed out of the article, wanting to wipe the words away. He hated the narrative people were forming. It sounded as though he’d orchestrated the crash somehow for attention. He had heard of people doing things to get their name out there but he wasn’t like that. He’d never been like that. It wasn’t even a cry for help. That had happened in his personal life, at the Hilton when he’d hoarded all those pills and cried on the bathroom floor with Darcy.

He opened up another message to Wanda.

_How bad is it? Do people think I’m crazy?_

She didn’t reply straight away, which was unlike her. He waited, wondering if she was already putting out fires, not wanting to scare him. He thought about grabbing a blanket and making a run for it.

He heard footsteps as he stared at his phone and looked up to see Wanda walking in, her eyes traveling to his splint.

“In answer to your questions, yes. People think you’re crazy,” she said, dragging a chair over to his bed before sitting down. She crossed one leg over the other and sighed. “But they already did.”

He gave a short laugh. “Right.”

“And it’s bad, but they don’t have to know everything straight away.”

She smiled at him, which Bucky found confusing.

“Wait… I’m waiting for you to drop me. Isn’t this a drop-able offense?”

“I think I deserve a raise, definitely,” Wanda said. “But I can’t stop wanting to work for you. Must be something wrong with me.”

“Sounds like a disease,” he muttered, settling back into his bed.

She chuckled. Her nails looked better today. Better than the last time he saw them. He watched her look around his room.

“I’m sorry you’re here. I can tell you don’t like hospitals,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, I hate them,” she whispered.

She came to see him. She came despite her fears, her reluctance to be in a place like this.

“I should buy you a house,” Bucky said, and she met his gaze, eyes widening.

“No.”

“Really? I can’t buy you a house?”

She gave a short disbelieving laugh. “Steve told me you offered to buy his loft outright. I didn’t think he was serious.”

The doctor came back with a different nurse, one that didn’t seem at all interested in who Bucky was or what he’d done. He was discharged and Wanda took him back to his hotel.

He didn’t want to be alone and trying to fall asleep. He gestured to the building as she pulled up at his hotel, her car still running.

“You wanna come up?”

She hesitated, looking toward the road for a second.

“You know you can’t drink, right?” she said, tilting her head.

She was referring to the painkillers the doctor just gave him. Bucky had no intention to mix those with alcohol.

“Yeah, but you can,” he retorted.

She parked her car and followed him inside. They ended up watching a movie while Wanda drank bourbon. They both lay on the covers of Bucky’s bed, Wanda’s eyelids getting heavier overtime.

“What the hell is this movie?” she murmured, and Bucky chuckled.

“I passed on this one.”

“Really?” Wanda said. “Jesus. Someone _okay’d_ this entire thing. They just sat down and wrote it, and then made it. And then _released it_.”

“That’s usually how it works,” Bucky said. He couldn’t help smirking at her outrage.

“I’m looking up how much it made.”

She got out her phone while Bucky watched her eyes bulged.

“130 _million_?! What?”

He snorted.

Bucky dozed off at some point and woke up with Wanda beside him, her mouth open. He touched her shoulder and she turned over, her back to him. He didn’t push her away, just go off the bed and went to the small plastic bag from the hospital. Since his overnight was in his wrecked Buick he’d had to ask for clean clothes. He took a shower with his arm stuck out to the side away from the spray, his movements awkward. He finally took his painkillers, then washed his mouth out a couple times.

He went back to his bed and heard Wanda snoring and he turned off the light, laying down again.

-

Bucky’s phone vibrating on the bedside table woke him the following morning, ripping him away from sleep instantly.

He’d only managed a few hours even with the painkillers in his system. He rubbed his face and remembered his left arm, leaning over to grab his phone with his right hand.

Steve was calling.

“Hey. You said you could pick me up from the airport.”

“You here already?” Bucky said, lips quirking.

Wanda stirred beside him and he watched her turn over, blinking up at him. He gave her a short wave, smirking a little at her confusion.

“Yeah. And since you wrecked your car –”

“Right,” Bucky replied. “You can get an Uber, punk.”

“I saw your magazine at the airport.”

“What, _Vogue_?” Bucky said, and Steve hummed. “Any good?”

“Darcy draped across you, I wouldn’t think it was the worst way to have your photo taken.”

Wanda rubbed her eyes. “I have like, twenty copies at my office.”

She must have been listening in on their conversation. Bucky handed his phone over, taking the opportunity to go smoke on the balcony. The rain had finally stopped overnight, and it probably wouldn’t rain for another six months.

He went to private hospital to get a cast before going back to his hotel to meet Steve and Wanda for lunch. He didn’t want to be running around in public. From what he’d heard people were harassing Darcy in Quebec.

Steve was there to have their first meetings with Strange. Their director hadn’t made an appearance in months. No-one knew where he was, including his assistant Debra. She could only promise Strange would be ready to see them that week.

“He knows I have a book tour I’ve derailed for him?” Steve muttered, and Bucky shrugged.

“He’s… an asshole,” he replied, and Steve gave a short laugh.

“No wonder you two get along.”

Bucky shoved him with his good arm. They were sitting at the breakfast buffet, people around them occasionally turning to stare. The other hotel guests were big names and probably wanted their own privacy. Bucky suspected if anyone found out where he was staying in L.A. there’d be a sea of cameras outside, which would be annoying for everyone working and staying at the hotel.

The lobby had strict security and Bucky was thankful that Steve didn’t insist on dragging him anywhere. He’d have to lay low for a while, at least until people moved onto another crazy story.

“What’re you gonna do about the arm?”

“I dunno,” Bucky replied. “It’s a pain in the ass. Maybe when it pisses me off too much I’ll cut myself out of it.”

“Could’ve turned out differently, Buck.”

Bucky glanced at him, nodding. “Yeah.”

He thought about it enough. He could have killed someone. He knew he should care about himself and how his death would devastate the people closest to him, but he couldn’t get over the shame he felt. It made him want to shrink, to hide. But he knew that didn’t help the last time, so he had to live with what had happened.

“’m sorry for scarin’ ya, bud,” he muttered, his accent thicker.

Steve squeezed his shoulder.

People were already writing about where he was in the first lot of footage before the crash took place. The stranger who’d filmed him uploaded it to Twitter and it spread like wildfire. There were rumors running rampant, and like the ones about his long lost sons and drug rings there was no evidence to support them. Except now with him standing outside a building meant to be for mental health services the theories were somehow scarier because they were closer to the truth than people probably realized.

_“It’s drugs, he’s on drugs.”_

On late night talk show host said it to his audience during the opening monologue, shrugging a little. Bucky saw the clip when Steve was in the bathroom, his heart sinking because he’d been on the show before to promote his other movies.

 _“It’s sad, but… that’s Hollywood, baby. Maybe he thinks he’s actually in_ Time Shell _.”_

The audience laughed. The host shrugged again.

_“I mean, I’d want to be on drugs after that movie. Come on. Come on!”_

There was the ba-boom-tiss of the drums in the background and the clip ended with the audience laughing.

-

“Is he for real?”

Steve said it immediately after Strange was out of earshot, he and Bucky sitting in the garden out the back of the Brit’s bungalow.

Strange had returned about ten pounds lighter with a shaved head. Bucky thought he might have done some kind of spiritual retreat. Zero was circling Steve, his tail flicking. He chirruped up at him and Steve smiled.

“Hey, buddy.”

Zero jumped on his lap, circling before sitting. He purred with Steve touching him, and Bucky scratched him behind his ears. He was hoping the cat might help win Steve over.

“I wanna say the weirdness is worth it,” Bucky said, and Steve chuckled.

Bucky wondered what set Steve off first – Strange’s appearance, mannerisms or style of speaking. The man reeked of weed, coffee and patchouli. His accent was still just as hard to pinpoint. Darcy’s description of him as the caterpillar from _Alice in Wonderland_ was still the most accurate.

Strange returned with a tray of shot glasses and some tequila, with lime wedges in a little bowl to the side. He placed the tray on the table that sat at and lowered himself onto his rocking chair once more. He spotted Zero and smirked.

Steve was petting the cat, the creature squinting blissfully into space as huge fingers carded his fur over and over.

“You read the script?” Strange asked Bucky.

“Yeah, it’s good.”

“Good,” Strange repeated, deadpan.

Bucky shrugged. He still liked winding him up a little bit. He wasn’t about to compliment the guy. He knew Strange wasn’t likely to do the same.

“And you?” Strange asked Steve.

“Yeah. You seemed to get the essence of the characters. Of… the general story.”

Steve was looking at Zero as he said all this, distracted. If Darcy were there Bucky wasn’t sure who Zero would want to sit on.

“It’s not shit,” Bucky added, and Steve chuckled.

“The character is clearly based on you,” Strange threw back, which caused Steve to finally look up from the cat, hands stilling.

“I mean, yeah,” Steve admitted. “But there’s me there, too.”

The story was very close to Bucky’s own. A boy from Brooklyn who grew up to be a famous actor. He would be playing a version of himself coming back home to see an old flame, the woman named Cassandra.

“How come Darcy’s not been sent a script?” Bucky interjected, and Strange blinked at him.

“It’s a privilege. And she’s in Canada.”

Bucky snorted. “Your Natalie doesn’t have her own copy because she’s busy working? You disappeared for a good chunk of time, and she’s basically a freelance artist –”

Steve’s eyebrows rose and he exchanged a look with Strange.

“You were gone for a little while, too, if I’m not mistaken,” Strange countered. “Summer love in Manhattan? I read the papers.”

“ _Where_ did you read them?” Bucky said, taking out a cigarette. He gestured to Strange’s general appearance. “Tibet?”

Strange rolled his eyes. Zero yawned.

“Darcy would be a great option for Cassandra,” Steve said. “If my opinion counts. I mean, I wrote the fuckin’ thing.”

Bucky lit his cigarette, watching Strange’s blank face slowly morph into a smirk.

“We like to bicker,” the Brit murmured. He shrugged a shoulder, eyes flitting to Steve. “And the book is good. Did he tell you that he didn’t tell me about it the entire festival until the last night I was there?”

Steve shook his head. Bucky exhaled through the corner of his mouth away from the table.

They kept discussing the movie for a while as Bucky occasionally chimed in with a jibe while Strange and Steve drove most of the conversation. Zero slept through it, twitching in Steve’s lap at one point.

Strange finally got up to pour them all a shot. Bucky was aware of it only being around 2PM. Steve made a face at him but shrugged, taking the shot Strange handed him. Bucky narrowed his eyes at his own shot, standing up to take it from the tray.

“Oh, boy,” Steve murmured. “Down the hatch.”

Bucky threw his shot back, stuffing his mouth with a lime wedge. He began to laugh at Steve, who was screwing up his face and petting Zero over and over like the motion was meant to comfort him.

Over the next couple hours they sat in the garden talking through the process of making the movie. At one point, Steve was wandering around in the grass with Zero while Bucky sat at the table with Strange. Bucky thought Steve seemed a little tipsy, but he seemed to be enjoying himself.

He glanced at Strange.

“I have an idea.”

Strange blinked slowly, nodding.

“I thought about it a while when I was in Manhattan –”

Strange looked like he was trying to not roll his eyes. The tequila might have been the only thing stopping him.

“RKB wants one more movie from me. And I can pick the movie and the director. So if you know a guy…”

“Fuck off,” Strange said, but he began to laugh. “How the in living _fuck_ am I supposed to feel comfortable with those people?”

Bucky shrugged. “Since they own so many companies they’re bound to have a smaller faction for you. Like Altona or Anya Media.”

Strange blinked again, pursing his lips. “Maybe.”

Bucky frowned. “Maybe. My last movie maybe ever, and you’re sayin’ maybe.”

“What in the good goddamn hell are you talking about?” Strange retorted, sounding American. “You’re going to retire after my movie with you?”

“Wait, what?” Steve said, jogging over with Zero under one arm.

Bucky bit his lip. “I don’t know how I’m meant to be just a workin’ actor anymore. There’s too much shit in the news. They’re not talkin’ about _Death of a Marriage_.”

He lifted his cast for a second.

“They’re talkin’ about _this_ bullshit.”

“I read people are seeing it. Just because you’re in it,” Steve said. He moved Zero to cradle him like a baby.

They fell silent, and Bucky pushed back his hair a couple times and sighed. Steve went back to playing with Zero on the grass.

“I didn’t want people to see your movie for the wrong reasons,” Bucky murmured, and Strange nodded.

“What do you want, then?” Strange asked, for the first time very serious. “Because it’s doing pretty well. They’re going to do a wider release in the next month.”

Bucky sighed again, scratching around his cast. He was sick of it the second it was put on. He wasn’t joking about cutting himself out of it. He’d probably end up doing it with a bread knife in the middle of the night.

“I guess I want to be taken seriously because I’m an asshole.”

“I want the same thing,” Strange said. “But for the most part, people just see me as a joke.”

Bucky frowned a little at that, thinking of Cannes.

“I mean Europeans like me. But Americans don’t like Europeans or European directors, so…”

He gave an elaborate shrug and eye roll.

“I’m fine. I’m fine with how this has turned out.”

They just looked at each other.

“I _will_ send Darcy a script. But it sounds like she’s being pulled in several different directions at the moment.”

No-one but Betty Ross knew that he and Darcy were trying for a baby. Strange had no idea how hectic things might become. Darcy only had a few more days of her Quebec shoot before she’d return to New York.

“How is she?”

“Playing Gloria Steinem? She’s great,” Bucky said. “She’s…”

He was about to say she was everything, and Strange just nodded, knowing.

“What about Veronika?”

Strange looked in the distance, sighing. “Well. I’m up to four now, officially.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and then he wondered why he was surprised. “You got _married_?”

Strange glanced away again, watching Zero and Steve.

“That was a beautiful twelve hours. And then she ditched me. Thank God for small mercies, though. She never wanted anything to do with this house or any of my money.”

Something passed over his face and he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmured. “That sucks.”

Strange glanced at him, a small smile on his face.

“Never mind.”

“How does it… keep happening?” Bucky asked, and Strange frowned.

“I know I’m the common denominator.”

“I mean how do you keep finding these women, keep getting into relationships when you’ve already tried it so many times? Isn’t that too painful?”

Bucky thought of all the women he’d ever slept with. Almost all of them except Darcy he’d never really wanted. He wanted to sleep with them but he never fell in love. He only ever disappointed women, it seemed. He was ready to give up hope by the time he met Darcy.

Strange lowered his voice, leaning closer to Bucky.

“What is the point, if not love?” he said, and Bucky knew this was a secret side to Stephen Strange that rarely was shown. “What would be the point of life if connection did not exist?”

Bucky blinked. “I’m…”

He didn’t know what to say, because everything Strange said made sense. Without the people around him Bucky would never have survived this last year. Even if he never met Darcy, he still had Steve and his mom in Brooklyn, with Wanda and Betty in L.A.

He nodded, feeling his stomach twist a little.

“I should call Darcy,” he said, and Strange chuckled.

“Tell her some good news for once.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, but he laughed a little.

-

The second he got to the set, Darcy came out of her trailer, looking half-done for her scenes. She wore a wig cap with her makeup done, her arms wide as Bucky raced over to her and lifted her off the ground.

“This a new hairstyle?” he murmured, and she giggled.

She kissed him, their mouths slanting together as he lowered her to the ground. She kept kissing him even though they were being watched. Bucky could imagine someone was taking pictures through a wide-angle lens. He’d been followed through the airport less than an hour ago.

He’d left Steve and Strange back in L.A. when he invited himself to Quebec. They were an odd combination but they seemed to get along really well and decided to do some script rewrites while Bucky was gone.

“I missed you so much,” he mumbled, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Poor baby,” Darcy said, pulling back and stroking his face. She glanced down at his cast and grabbed one of his fingers that poked out of it. “Poor broken beautiful Bucky.”

He wanted to just keep hugging her, bury himself in her neck. Her scent was a comfort and he grumbled a little when she moved back. He knew he was being needy, and he needed to tone it down with all the people wandering around them on set.

“You can come sit in my trailer,” Darcy said, tugging him by his shirt. “Come on.”

He wanted to make out with her, not restrain himself. He sighed, hoping his half-hard dick would calm down. He didn’t want to be pathetic.

He sat on the couch in her trailer, emailing Wanda about getting RKB to agree to Strange’s new project. There was already buzz about Bucky’s upcoming final flick with RKB. If he could manage to kill two birds with one stone he’d finally stop bitching about his contract.

He was staying away from the Internet as best he could but he knew people were using his car accident as a meme.

 _Mondays be like_ – and then the picture of him smoking on the ground looking like he was dead inside.

Darcy’s wig was on and she turned to him, winking. He chuckled, lifting his phone to take a photo once she put on her pair of costume glasses.

“Very cute.”

“Have you seen this outfit?”

She whipped off her robe to reveal a pair of corduroy pants with a long-sleeved puffy blouse and cackled.

“I’m a sepia nightmare.”

Bucky got up from his seat and the makeup girl moved away, laughing.

“Who _are_ you? You wanna get a drink sometime?”

-

 _The Death of a Marriage_ was a surprise hit, managing to topple a highly-anticipated horror remake at the beginning of October.

Bucky tried not to look into it too much. He was fucking busy, and all he kept seeing was the same few distant cousins chiming in about his so-called secret exploits. It was easier to switch off when he preferred to live in his world he and Darcy shared in Manhattan.

He loved that the fall was in full swing and Darcy took it upon herself to decorate the entire penthouse with Halloween-themed things. They spent Halloween night with Judie in Brooklyn, watching _Psycho_ and eating homemade spaghetti and meatballs. One of Bucky’s new favourite photos on his phone was of Darcy and Judie sitting side by side on the couch with their mouths and forks full of pasta.

November was one of the best months of Bucky’s life and he owed it all to Darcy. Strange asked them to record a commentary track for _The Death of a Marriage_. Luckily the track didn’t need to be recorded in California so Darcy and Bucky rolled into a studio in Queens a few days after Halloween.

They were shuffled into a booth with the studio supervisor making sure the setup was ideal. Bucky had only done this once before with _Escape the Cape_ , and the process was boring as fuck. He knew with Darcy she’d try to make it as silly as possible.

As soon as they started the movie Darcy murmured into her microphone:

“So we have no idea how this going to go. Stephen might send us right back here after he hears this.”

Bucky chuckled, readjusting his headphones.

“Yeah, sorry Stephen. But like, this is mostly your fault.”

The supervisor mouthed your names and Darcy began to giggle.

“Fuck, we fucked up already. Hello.”

“Hello,” Bucky echoed. He glanced at Darcy, waiting.

“Hi, I’m Chimothée Talamet, half-sister of Timothée Chalamet. Darcy Lewis.”

Bucky burst out laughing and the supervisor promptly stopped the movie since they were already into the first few minutes of the story and Bucky’s laughter was taking up too much time. They waited until he subsided before going back a little bit.

“And I’m the ghost of Christmas past. James Barnes.”

Darcy grinned at him.

“We’re… menaces, okay? So if you’re listening to this thinking it’s a high brow commentary, this ain’t it.”

“Nope.”

“But what am I, the police? Do what ya want,” Darcy added, putting on her best Bronx accent that she modelled after her own mother. “We’re talkin’, you’re here listenin’.”

They fell silent, watching Jack walk down the lane with the toddler on his hip. Bucky shook his head a little, wondering what to say.

“So _handsome_.”

“Yikes. I hope you’re not like this the whole time,” he muttered and Darcy laughed.

“I love this scene because this was shot on my day off. Also when I’m in the background a few minutes later I’m just sitting there. That was also a great day.”

The scene cut to the flashback.

“Good…Lord. That outfit,” Darcy said, chuckling. “If anyone else is uncomfortable imagine being me and being told that I had to wear this outfit in front of cameras.”

“I love that I’m clearly not twenty two years-old there and we’re pretending I am,” Bucky said. “It’s like when you watch The Breakfast Club knowing Judd Nelson was… basically thirty.”

“The budget was small. No CGI, so… Unless you’re like, Nicolas Cage. That guy looked thirty when he was twenty-two.”

Darcy glanced at the supervisor, smiling sheepishly.

“We can’t talk about other movies in here. We have to talk about this one,” Bucky said, chuckling. “Goddamn it. We’re already at the first kiss.”

“And that was our first day. Imagine gays and ladies… being told that your first scene with James Barnes is the first fucking kiss.”

“I was shitting myself.”

Darcy began to giggle. “Me, too.”

Bucky glanced at Darcy, winking at her. “Was it _bad_ , though?”

“Since no-one can see the obscene gestures my co-star is making at me –”

“Hey!”

“He’s being very inappropriate.”

They kept giggling.

“Oh, shit. We’re meant to be watchin’ this, huh?” Darcy said, her Bronx accent back.

As they got to the first sex scene Darcy dissolved into giggles, probably out of nerves.

“I wonder how many people will freeze frame –”

“Hey. Let’s not shame the people watching this DVD. Let’s just shame our own bodies, okay?” Bucky said, feeling himself blush a little. “Like… there’s me. Naked.”

“Again, we’re meant to be watchin’ this. So I have a few comments to add.”

“Right.”

“There’s this rumour that we were drunk. There’s no way I would do this drunk. I think if I wasn’t sober I wouldn’t agree to any of this –”

“Fuck no,” Bucky agreed.

They watched for a few moments.

“This week was a weird one,” he added, watching Darcy bouncing up and down.

Darcy put her face in her hands.

“And this was day two. Day… two.”

As the movie progressed, Darcy needed the bathroom. Bucky took a cigarette break and squeezed her hand when they finally got back to the commentary. They’d paused it around the halfway mark.

“Oh, I’m screaming at you in the grocery store. That was fun.”

Bucky chuckled. “Not really acting at that point?”

“I think I was pissed off with Stephen that day. And the child actors kept crying. I think it was because we were getting close to the end.”

“Little story about Stephen Strange,” Bucky added. “He was editing this _as_ we were filming. He’d film for ten hours and then go home and edit the dailies.”

“So like…” Darcy leaned closer to her mic, lowering her voice. “The sea captain was losing his mind.”

“And we still didn’t know how this was meant to end.”

“No spoilers, but – _that_ ending – I had no idea. Stephen kept it all secret,” Darcy said. “Most likely you have already seen this and you’ve bought the DVD to rewatch it, but we were all in the dark.”

“He never indicated if it was a tragedy?”

“I mean, watching this movie, you it’s a sad ending. It’s a sad movie. I think it’s just grounded in reality,” Darcy went on. She cleared her throat. “But it’s not shitting on a genre of film. It is romantic, and it is a crime movie but it’s not trying to fit into what you expect from other movies. This movie makes sense to me. I remember during Cannes a reporter asked us whether we were sad.”

Bucky shrugged until he remembered no-one but Darcy could see it.

The cunnilingus scene came on and Darcy whooped.

“This scene was cut over and over. Which is bizarre.”

“Yeah, it’s just sex,” Bucky said. “Which I’ve never had in my whole life, by the way. Period.”

Darcy burst out laughing.

 “ _Wink_ ,” Bucky added for good measure.

“Also, another outfit that we love,” Darcy said. Natalie wore a low cut tank top with giant hoop earrings. Darcy cleared her throat loudly as Jack’s head moved up and down between his wife’s bare legs. “I mean you wearing jeans and no shoes and shirt.”

“Yeah, I just showed up like that on the day. I ran late that morning. Weird how that worked out.”

Darcy giggled.

They went silent during the attempted rape scene. Bucky held Darcy’s hand as they watched. They finally started up again when they cut to Jack coming out of the shower in a towel.

“Oh, hello.”

“Where’s this going?”

“Does he drop the towel – oh, right, he does,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head a little. “Funny how no-one gets anything done this entire movie. They’re just screwing their brains out.”

“Weird that they only had _one_ baby,” Darcy said with a chuckle. “It’s never mentioned the entire time.”

“Yeah, _Stephen_!” Bucky cried, a little too loud. The supervisor was joining in with Darcy’s laughter.

They got to the scene with Mike being stabbed.

“People don’t know this but it’s actually really fun pretending to kill someone,” Darcy said. “I’ve done it a few times –”

“I wouldn’t know if it’s as fun as the real deal, though,” Bucky said. “Jury’s still out.”

“Also, how much of a mess did you make that day? Just buckets of fake blood…”

“It was supposed to be realistic, I guess,” Bucky said. “But imagine being their landlord. Like, they’re constantly fucking on every surface of their house… and then this.”

“Yeah, their landlord would fucking hate them.”

Mike’s blank face was on the screen and Darcy gulped loudly into her mic.

“Jeezy Creezy.”

As the final scene played Bucky sighed a little.

“I wanna say something in case someone is actually listening to this dumbass commentary we’ve just done,” he said, and Darcy smile faltered.

“What?”

“You stole this movie. I mean, I was in it and I know how good you were. Y’know what I mean?”

Darcy smiled a little. “Awww.”

“Really. Every take just bam, bam, bam. I am in awe of you.”

“Thank you, baby.”

The screen faded to black, Strange’s name and the title appearing.

They both clapped.

-

“Keep… up.”

Bucky threw back another shot, Steve mirroring him. They both made faces of disgust while Strange leaned forward, wiping his mouth.

“Do you know how hard this is?” he mumbled, as Steve stuffed a lime in his mouth.

“Writing a movie script?” Bucky asked, and Strange shook his head.

“Drinking this much. It’s hard to be drunk all the time. Or high.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah.”

He took a second to rub his face.

“I’m done. I should go.”

“No!” Strange whined. “Stay. I have mushrooms.”

“Jesus. No,” Bucky said. “The last thing Darcy needs is her dumbass boyfriend hallucinatin’…”

He grumbled that last part to himself, picking up his keys from Strange’s coffee table. He wasn’t drunk, but if he stayed any longer he would be.

Darcy and Bucky returned to L.A. once she finished her Gloria Steinem gig in Quebec. Bucky was itching to leave for New York, to prepare for the holidays. They were almost done with the pre-production stages of the new movie.

They were renaming it _Brooklyn Baby_. It fitted better. Steve could go back to the book tour once he wasn’t needed in L.A. Bucky could run back to Manhattan and Strange could stay behind and go back to his control-freak mode he was in during filming _The Death of a Marriage_.

Bucky waved at Steve and Zero. He’d see Steve again in a couple days. Strange walked him out, shuffling behind him as Bucky pulled on his boots.

“If you have rewrites –”

“Debra will send them to you,” Strange interjected, his vape appearing from one of his robe pockets.

Bucky stopped at the door, turning the lock to open it. He turned back to Strange.

“You okay?”

He’d never asked it before so directly but he’d seen Betty Ross several more times since wrecking his car and he’d begun to understand the things that were most important to him. Honesty was one of them. And Stephen Strange had been honest with him many times over.

Strange narrowed his eyes slightly, seeming more sober than he let on.

“You know Carol Danvers, of course.”

Bucky blinked. “I don’t think I wanna know where this is goin’.”

“She’s my type. Blonde. She could beat me up pretty easily.”

“Is _that_ what you’re into?” Bucky asked, chuckling a little.

Strange shrugged. “I like her energy.”

“Christ,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head.

He moved out the door and began walking down the path toward the street. He had already ordered an Uber and it was on its way. Strange followed him, still walking slower than usual.

“I heard a pretty nasty rumor about you this week.”

When Bucky turned back he saw Strange was serious and he felt his face slacken.

“What was it?”

“Pretty unsavoury. Derogatory.”

Bucky swallowed, looking up at the sky for a second.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure –”

“I hadn’t heard this one before,” Strange said, and Bucky stared back at him. “People saying you have certain conditions.”

“Stop trying to draw this shit out, Stephen!” Bucky snapped, and Strange froze. “Not everything is about you being theatrical –”

“They said you schizophrenia.”

Bucky felt his face flush. “That’s not – That’s fucked, man. I don’t.”

He wanted Strange to turn back, to leave, but he was loitering. Bucky put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. He didn’t know what else to say.

“I heard it at a party,” Strange added. “I thought you should… hear it from someone else.”

Bucky wanted to go back inside and find those mushrooms, eat them all and run around the garden with Zero. He wanted to watch the moon melt into the night sky and never feel anything again. The shame was so sudden he sweated all over, his stomach clenching.

“Bucky –”

“Don’t talk to me about this,” he whispered.

He didn’t look at Strange, didn’t say goodbye when his Uber showed up. He tried his best to shove it down, to try to not act out. It was harder to sit with the feelings than let himself run loose.

He returned to Darcy’s place to find her cooking pasta, humming to herself.

He pulled her into a hug and she looked surprised but she didn’t seem scared. She stroked his hair as he buried his face in her neck. Some of his worst fears were coming true – his personal life and his mental illness could make his career fall apart.

“Talk to me,” Darcy murmured, as Bucky sniffled. “Hey. Baby.”

“I think they know.”

“Who? What do they know?”

“Stephen said someone was talking about me at a party.”

“People talk all the time –”

He felt weak. He was hiding, pretending. Only Steve and Darcy knew about his diagnosis but since the car crash people had speculated for a while about whether he was crazy. He hated that he cared so much about what other people thought of him.

It was easy to say that what people thought of him was none of his business. Easier said than fucking done. He shook his head.

“Said I have schizophrenia.”

Darcy sighed. “Stephen needs better friends.”

He hovered around the kitchen as Darcy prepared everything, serving him up a big bowl. She made herself a bigger one, sitting with him on the couch while they ate.

“Do you want to put out a statement?” she asked.

He made a face. “What would I say? Hey, I don’t hallucinate but I have emotional dysregulation.”

They ate in silence and Bucky cleared the plates, packing the dishwasher and turning it on. He moved back to the living room and saw Darcy was gone.

Then there was a coughing sound in the distance and Bucky followed it, seeing the bathroom door was partly open.

“Hey, babe?”

“It’s fine. I – I wanted to tell you before.”

He hoped dearly she was about to say what he dreamed of hearing one day.

“You’re pregnant.”

He pushed the door open to reveal Darcy leaning against the toilet, giving a weak smile.

“Ta-dah…”

He closed his eyes for a second before sitting on the floor beside her, kissing her face, pulling her toward him. Darcy’s chin wobbled and she began to cry.

“I was late so I took a test. I’m six weeks.”

 _“Six_ weeks?” Bucky repeated, feeling his heart soar. His chest heaved and he kissed her face again and again.

“Bucky, I’m all pukey.”

He fell asleep with his head against Darcy’s stomach that night.

-

They kept it a secret for another month. Darcy wore a lot of baggy clothes anyway so it wasn’t hard to hide her bump. Her morning sickness was so bad Bucky knew he couldn’t keep it from his mom when they were over. Judie’s cooking made Darcy feel nauseous and it was hard to find things she wanted to eat.

Steve found out from Bucky because he didn’t want to hold it in anymore. Steve was sworn to secrecy because Darcy still badly wanted to be in _Brooklyn Baby_ and they had no idea how Strange would take that news.

When they began filming _Brooklyn Baby_ Bucky and Darcy were only living in Manhattan. They didn’t want to return to L.A. until after the baby was born. They saw no reason to return any sooner. When they weren’t on set, Darcy and Bucky were at home or the doctor’s office. Bucky had never felt closer to a person in all his life. They never spent more than an hour apart. Bucky didn’t want to waste any time without her, knowing the life that was growing inside her.

Seeing her unwell made him feel guilty, but he remembered this was Darcy’s choice as well. He managed to push down that guilt by showing his constant support in other ways.

“Hey, Reggie,” he murmured as he made his way down to the lobby.

The doorman lit up.

“Good… _morning_ Mister Barnes.”

It was three AM and Darcy was experiencing her first cravings. Bucky had hardly slept but he didn’t mind going down to a 7-Eleven and getting Fritos if it meant she was happy. She was lying in bed when he let himself out.

He pushed a Snickers bar into Reggie’s hand on his way back. Once he got to their floor and unlocked the front door, he called out:

“Babe, I’m back.”

She wanted gummi worms and Fritos, and Dr. Pepper. Specifically Diet Dr. Pepper, so Bucky shelled out the Fritos in a bowl and cracked open her can of soda and placed them on a tray with the gummi bears under his arm. He walked back toward their bedroom and nudged it open with his shoulder.

Darcy wasn’t in bed. He could hear her vomiting. He put down the tray at the end of Darcy’s side of the bed and picked up the soda can, walking into the bathroom.

Darcy was coughing with her head in the toilet. Bucky crouched to stroke her hair, wrapping one arm around her so his hand rested on her stomach. She groaned softly, sounding wrecked. She leaned back, resting against Bucky as he kissed her face.

“I got you this,” he murmured, pushing the can toward her.

She winced. “I won’t keep it down.”

“Try. You like the bubbles.”

Darcy took the can, starting to gulp it down. She was certainly thirsty, drinking the whole thing in less than a couple minutes, sighing when she emptied it.

Bucky scooped her up and carried her out, placing her on the bed. She looked up at him drowsily as Bucky sat beside her, his hand rubbing her arm.

“You didn’t have to carry me,” she mumbled.

“I’ll carry you every day, okay?” he murmured.

She gave a small smile.

“You probably can’t when I’m huge.”

“That wouldn’t stop me,” he replied, moving forward to kiss her.

She closed her eyes and he watched her fall back to sleep. He glanced at the food he’d left for her and moved to pick it back up and return it to the kitchen.

He rubbed his eyes over and over. At least once a day he thought of California and he’d get that feeling of dread again. People were still talking about him, and now Darcy as well since she’d gone practically underground. It was easier to tune all the bullshit out during the day when he was busy, but at night when he couldn’t sleep he struggled.

He eventually went back to Darcy after having a couple cigarettes out on the balcony. He took a shower and crawled into bed around dawn. He needed to be up in a couple hours for filming.

When he thought he’d finally drifted off, he heard a soft whimpering beside him and he turned over, blinking in the dark. He scrambled to find the lamp on his side and switched it on.

Darcy was sobbing, before she bolted out of bed for the bathroom.

“Baby?” Bucky called after her.

He pulled back the covers to see a wet patch on her side. He climbed out of bed, padding over to the bathroom yet again. The door was locked this time.

“Darce. It’s okay.”

“It’s embarrassing. My body’s a mess. _I’m_ a mess.”

He tried the handle again. He leaned against the door, pressing his forehead against it.

“Baby, it’s okay. I promise you’re not a mess.”

More soft sobbing from beyond. It made Bucky’s chest ache. He slid to the floor, listening out for her.

“Baby?”

There was a click and the door suddenly opened, Bucky scooting forward and then turning back to look at Darcy. Her nightgown was soaked. Her cheeks were pink either from embarrassment or her crying. She wiped her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he murmured. He squeezed her leg. “I’ll wash everything.”

Darcy grimaced. “No.”

He took apart the bed and shoved everything into the washing machine. Darcy had a shower and returned looking scrubbed raw, her hair wet. The sun was well and truly up.

Bucky brought her into another cuddle, feeling Darcy pat his butt a few times and he chuckled.

“You want a milkshake?”

She nodded.

“Peanut butter or chocolate?”

“Can I have both?” she mumbled.

-

Bucky turned down doing an actors’ round table event, which was more or less the process of several famous actors doing an hour long session of introspection before Awards Season. Because he declined doing the event, there was plenty of speculation about what he was up to.

Darcy was not invited to do her own round table, which made it easier for Bucky to shun the event that in turn shunned someone as important as her. Those people were idiots as far as Bucky was concerned, and being in New York with her was better than any navel-gazing with those people from the industry. Strange was invited to the directors’ round table and came across as his perfectly narcissistic self in a room of other self-important assholes. _The Death of a Marriage_ was still a box office contender and extended its release through to the New Year.

Christmas was exactly what they needed, spending the day with Steve and Judie in Brooklyn. As usual, Bucky went way overboard. He knew he was bad with money, and given any opportunity he usually bought way too much. Judie kept chastising him, saying their kid was going to be spoilt rotten. It only made Bucky shrug. He didn’t care if his child was given everything they ever wanted in the world, as long as they were happy.

Darcy did simpler things, like repairing his father’s old wristwatch that broke over twenty years ago. She handed it back to him a few days into January and he stopped in his tracks, staring down at it.

“You like it? I was worried you’d hate that I got it fixed.”

He glanced at her, seeing her face was etched with concern, like she was afraid she crossed a line. He scooped her up, kissing her so she’d feel how much he liked the gesture. His hand went to her stomach, feeling the little bump there. He crouched to kiss it and Darcy chuckled.

“Do you think Peanut’s a boy or a girl?” Bucky murmured into her shirt.

They’d called the baby Peanut because it was so little still. Darcy stroked his hair.

“Or one of each?” he added, and her eyes widened slightly.

“Don’t get greedy.”

And like so many other days for the last few months, Bucky pulled her leggings down and buried his face between her legs until her thighs shook and she’d nearly fall over from the force of her orgasm. He’d clutch at her to keep her upright, his eyes glued to her face. Darcy whimpered through the aftershocks, hands still tugging at Bucky’s hair.

When Darcy reached her second trimester she hit her stride. She managed to keep food down and wasn’t as tired. The cravings got a little weirder – one time Bucky was sent out to find funfetti icing and pickles for dipping – but she managed to work just as thoroughly.

It was becoming harder to hide the pregnancy at work. Linda, who was the same makeup artist from _The Death of a Marriage_ gave Bucky a very knowing look one morning when she came in wearing yet another loose hoodie, rapidly changing into more loose clothing as her character Cassandra.

“We’re not ready for other people to know,” Darcy murmured.

Bucky nodded, and Linda put her hands up.

“Who am _I_ gonna tell?” she said, and Bucky let out a relieved laugh.

The plot of Brookyln Baby mirrored Steve’s book and a lot of the visual design was inspired by Steve’s artwork except Strange wasn’t about to abandon his signature style of having the script partially improvised with major plot points to work around.

Steve was frequently on the set, and it helped that Strange had relocated to Brooklyn during the shoot with Zero so Steve could play with the cat behind the camera.

One afternoon mid-January there must have been something in the air because Bucky and Darcy were giggling through each take, wasting a lot of time when their characters were meant to be in an entirely different mood.

Bucky would look at Darcy too long and burst out laughing, and Darcy wasn’t able to get a line out without smiling back at him. Even when Bucky was told to step out of the shot entirely just so Darcy could get a word out, she couldn’t keep a straight face.

“Fuck!” she yelled, dabbing her eyes. She’d started crying with laughter.

Strange looked like he was about to strangle either one of them, glaring at them from behind the camera.

“You’re not even trying now.”

Darcy tried her hardest to look menacing at their director, her hands on her hips. There was a smirk playing on Strange’s face and he looked up at the sky, shaking his head.

“Darcy, be serious. Now,” Bucky said, his back to her.

“Hey, fuck you, ya fuckin’ mook.”

He sniggered and Steve was even smirking from his chair with Zero in his lap.

Stephen called cut, asking for a break. Crew members began to walk off and Bucky sighed, scratching his beard. He thought about going off to have a cigarette and turned around to see Strange and Darcy having an intense conversation.

His heart began to beat a little faster and he walked over to them.

“What’s up?”

Strange gave him a quick glance. “Oh. The culprit.”

“What?”

“He knows,” Darcy murmured, and Bucky’s eyes widened slightly.

Strange sighed loudly and Bucky felt himself stiffen, immediately defensive on Darcy’s behalf.

“Hey, man. Back off. It won’t affect work.”

That was a lie. Darcy had already missed work because of her morning sickness a couple times. She needed bigger clothes already but it was easy to have Linda adjust things. Anya Media wasn’t about to stop production because of Darcy’s condition. It was up to Strange because he had full creative control.

Strange frowned slightly.

“I don’t give a shit about _that_ , it’s that neither of you told me until now.”

Bucky blinked at him, realizing Strange’s feelings were hurt.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” Darcy muttered. She wrapped her jacket a little tighter around her, and Strange softened a little at her.

Bucky knew Darcy was precious to Strange. Their closeness manifested in a shared creativity Bucky felt he lacked at times.

“I suppose congratulations…” Strange began, but Darcy stalked off, his words trailing off.

Bucky rose his eyebrows at him when the two of them were alone.

“You could get better at that.”

“And you’re the expert?” Strange snapped, and then he rolled his eyes. “Sorry. Stressed.”

He’d never been even slightly apologetic for his controlling behaviour before so Bucky stared at him for a little longer than necessary, waiting for him to take it back.

Darcy returned a few minutes later with the rest of the crew, significantly cooler than before. She and Bucky finished their scene quickly before they moved on.

At the end of the day, Strange stalked into their shared trailer and pointed at Linda.

“You knew.”

“She found out,” Darcy retorted, Strange’s eyes snapping to hers. “There’s a difference.”

Bucky was busy pulling off his costume jacket for his regular one while Darcy ripped off her top layers as well, handing pieces back to Linda. Strange’s eyes went to her midsection, assessing. Bucky tensed before he could stop it, readying himself for an argument.

“You can have a love scene that’s a little less explicit –” Linda began.

Strange cut her off. “Not a chance.”

Darcy’s eyes went wild, pulling on one of Bucky’s hoodies, shoving her hands into the pouch at the front.

“Did _everyone_ just suck your dick during that panel?” she snapped.

“I’m your director.”

“You can suck _my_ dick! I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked me to do! If you don’t want my bump in the shot, change the fucking shot!”

Strange looked overwhelmed, staring down at her as she got right in his face. Bucky shot his arm out at the last second so Darcy couldn’t reach Strange. She glared at him, before remembering who he was.

“Right. I guess that’s what people mean by hormones,” she muttered. “Awesome.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Strange said, which caused both Bucky and Darcy to glower at him.

He finally took a step back.

“I understand. Darcy, you’ve been everything I ever wanted, alright?”

Darcy blinked at Strange, taking Bucky’s hand in hers.

Strange cleared his throat awkwardly. “I need… you. Both of you.”

Linda put her hands on her hips and Strange smirked.

“And you, too, Linda.”

-

Bucky decided to return to California when yet another media outlet speculated that he was in rehab for a number of problems including schizophrenia.

He wasn’t sure how to deal with it himself when it was Wanda’s job for the most part to market him to the public. He still offered to buy her a house for all the shit she went through for him and she always declined.

He’d seen Betty long enough that he was no longer ashamed of what he was going through, especially since his priorities changed. He needed to provide support for Darcy and their baby. He wasn’t able to do that on pills with an inferiority complex, being the loneliest man alive.

One night when they were trying to decide on which crib they were going to buy online, Darcy’s legs draped over his lap, he blurted:

“I want people to know about me.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “ _Not_ that we’re pregnant?”

“Do I look pregnant to you?” Bucky teased.

Darcy began to giggle, grunting with the effort to move forward and lift his shirt a little, examining his flat stomach. She tickled his abs before he grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“You want to know what I think?” Darcy murmured, when her giggling subsided.

“What.”

“Tweet it out. _I have borderline personality disorder_ , done.”

Bucky thought about it for a minute as she scrolled through her laptop. It didn’t feel right, to offer that little piece of information and then not give any other explanation.

Was his excuse meant to be after months, years of erratic behaviour… I’m mentally ill, the end?

Darcy paused, watching him.

“Baby.”

“No, it’s not gonna work. I’ll feel guilty. Like when those assholes say they’re a sex addict or an alcoholic like it’s meant to wipe the slate clean –”

“What you have is real,” Darcy said. She put aside her laptop, moving her legs back to shuffle toward him, kissing his face. “It’s very serious but you’re learning to manage it.”

“I should… talk about it, right? But why would I want to?”

He couldn’t put his finger on what would motivate that. He glanced at Darcy’s belly again, and it suddenly made sense. He wanted their child to live in a world made better by the people already living in it.

“I don’t want to be afraid of how this could affect my career.”

“You don’t want stigma.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed, feeling a twist of anxiety in his stomach. “But how do I dictate how I share that?”

Darcy thought for a minute, then she grabbed his shoulder.

“Carol!”

“What about Carol?”

 _“Carol!”_ Darcy said, her eyes lighting up. “She has a podcast with her girlfriend Maria –”

“She has a girlfriend?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Darcy said, laughing a little at his confusion. “She’s not straight.”

He thought of Stephen’s admission and his eyes widened slightly, pressing his lips together to not burst out laughing.

“Thank God you can get by on your looks,” Darcy muttered, oblivious to the true meaning behind his reaction while she went back to her laptop. “Carol’s podcast means an hour at least for you to talk about whatever you want. She does it once a week. We can call her now.”

Bucky felt he might need a minute to think about it, to prepare himself, but Darcy was already handing him her phone with the display showing she’d dialled Carol’s number.

He put it to his ear, feeling his stomach churn.

-

“Big day. Huge.”

Carol and Maria’s studio was made up of one long black table with two microphones set up on one end and the third on the opposite end. One of the walls was glass for their producer to look through during recording, with a spare couch in the background for any guest’s entourage.

Carol had started off the episode, glancing at Maria. Bucky knew their podcast was audio streamed as well as uploaded to YouTube every week.

“Yeah, I wore a clean pair of sweatpants today,” Bucky said, and he was being serious.

He considered it a miracle that he managed to make it to L.A. in one piece, to this little studio downtown with Darcy sitting on the couch in the next room with the producer. Carol and Maria laughed and Bucky made a face.

“We are of course speaking to the one, the only – James Barnes,” Maria said, exchanging a look with Carol and smiling.

“Yes, last week we told you we’d have a surprise guest, so well done to _none of you_ because no-one guessed who it was,” Carol added. “But it makes sense because… you’re kind of a hard guy to find.”

Bucky ducked his head for a second, letting out a breath of a laugh.

“But you reached out,” Maria said.

“Thank you for having me, I guess,” Bucky said. “I’m… going to be awkward as hell and I hope you don’t have to make a lot of cuts before this gets out.”

He opened his water that Maria gave him before they sat down and took a sip. His guts were twisting and his leg began to jiggle. There was an awkward pause and he cleared his throat away from his mic before turning back.

“So… what do you guys want to talk about?”

All three of them burst out laughing and Bucky ran a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes a little.

Carol made a high-pitched sound. “Well…. I mean, we wanna know everything about your year.”

Maria widened her eyes pointedly, nodding at Bucky.

“I guess we’d start there.”

Bucky could feel his armpits were getting sweaty from nerves. He’d had so many opportunities to bail out of this interview, but he knew that if he didn’t speak about this now he maybe never would.

“Our good friend Darcy Lewis is in the studio today,” Carol said, gesturing to Darcy sitting on the couch behind the glass. “Who I’ve known… nine years? I think. At least eight.”

Darcy nodded, her thumbs up.

“Yeah, it’s nine,” Carol went on. “Audience says nine. I met Darcy at an audition and I was immediately intimidated by how talented she was. Like, I wanted to hate her but she’s the sweetest soul. But she made me look like a fucking amateur.”

“Yeah, Darcy could be wearing a red nose and face paint and I’d _easily_ be the clown on set,” Bucky said, and Maria laughed. “She is phenomenal.”

“I mention Darcy because that’s… basically a good place to start,” Carol said. “Because you made a movie with her around this time last year.”

Carol widened her eyes a little.

“I don’t think I was fully prepared for _The Death of a Marriage_.”

Maria nodded at Carol.

“None of us were.”

“I don’t think I was,” Bucky admitted. “And I was in it.”

Carol began to giggle, derailing the conversation a little before she recovered, fanning herself.

“It’s definitely one of the saddest movies I’ve seen, but there’s one scene, and Maria agrees –”

Maria lit up, pointing back at Carol. “Oh!”

“There’s a scene where Natalie says ‘what are you, stupid’ and we know Darcy’s not even slightly in character!”

Bucky laughed, remembering the scene they meant. It was somewhere in the second act when Jack was starting to get back into his sketchier gigs.

“Darcy is sweet but she will tell you to your face if you’re being a dumbass,” Bucky said, glancing toward Darcy and smiling at her.

“I was walking around for a week saying, ‘what are you, stupid’,” Carol laughed.

“Speaking of quotes,” Maria said, scrolling through her phone for second. “There’s a video I found yesterday.”

“I’m… scared to ask about it,” Bucky murmured, rubbing his beard and grimacing.

“It’s called ’15 minutes of James Barnes being a mood’.”

Bucky shrugged. “Just one mood? I don’t have the range?”

“Apparently this is the one that matters. Also, there’s another one I also found called ‘James Barnes saying um for three minutes straight’.”

Carol snorted. Bucky laughed, moving closer to his mic and murmuring in a low voice:

“At any given moment I have no idea what is going on.”

Maria and Carol erupted in laughter and Bucky rolled his eyes at himself, shrugging. He could see their producer was also laughing.

“Derek’s gone,” Carol said, pointing. “If you’re listening to us at home, our producer Derek is also falling on the floor laughing.”

“Did you guys get high before this or somethin’?” Bucky muttered.

“Well…” Carol began, and Derek shrugged.

Bucky took another sip of water and bit his lip. Carol fanned herself again and turned a little to Maria.

“We… have something big to talk about, though. So, if you’ve been living under a rock, James has been in the news a lot. Every day it feels like. Not altogether kind words said, either.”

“No,” Bucky murmured. “And what I’m about to segue into gracelessly might be triggering, so…”

“Right. Trigger warning. Okay,” Carol said. “That’s fair.”

Bucky glanced at Darcy and hesitated.

“I’m not… really sure how to start.”

Carol gestured to Derek, who promptly paused their recording.

Bucky took off his headphones and took a deep breath, watching Maria and Carol watch him. He asked to leave for a few minutes and promptly smoked four cigarettes outside, pacing back and forth with his hood covering his head. He knew he looked like a mess. He wasn’t about to come across as stable by any means.

He met with Darcy when he walked back in, and she squeezed his hand a couple times.

“I’m okay. I’ll just… act,” he murmured, and she nodded.

“I could start a fire. You just give me a signal and I got out with your lighter –”

He chuckled. “I have a feeling that ain’t safe, baby.”

“Probably not,” Darcy muttered.

He slipped back into the room and sat on his chair, putting his headphones back on. His stomach was in knots but he felt a little better with the reminder of Darcy in the other room. He was sure that without her there he’d never have got this far.

“We took a break but we’re back,” Maria said. “We’re still with James Barnes, our guest.”

“Trigger warning stills stands?” Carol asked, and Bucky nodded.

He felt himself flush and he took another second to gather his thoughts before diving in.

“I should start with… I guess the time I was careening down the highway and crashed my car,” Bucky said, grimacing. “But then maybe further back for context?”

“There was the hospital incident.”

Bucky laughed abruptly, then covered his mouth for a second. “Which time?”

They all laughed but Bucky felt that nervous sweat again.

“I’m not trying to make light of… this kind of accident, because my dad –”

“Oh, no,” Marie murmured, realizing. “No! Don’t.”

“He did though, he died from being hit by a car,” Bucky said, raising a hand. “But I guess I can joke about it because it’s me, and I’m stupid.”

“Quick disclaimer – you’re referring to the time when you were hit by a car last May,” Maria said. “And then no-one could get a hold of you for a while. I remember TMZ parking themselves outside of the hospital that first night.”

“That’s gross,” Carol said. “That is so gross to me.”

“I wasn’t really… there a lot of that time,” Bucky admitted. “I was concussed. I think I needed to go further back then, for context. If this story is supposed to make sense.”

Carol mimed rewinding and Maria chuckled.

“I know someone’s gonna write to you – ‘James Barnes made light of mental illness’,” Bucky said, running his hands through his hair. “But I – I do that for me, not to insult your listeners or viewers.”

He said mental illness. Out loud, on a podcast that was about to learn everything. He thought he’d feel nauseous with fear but he felt instantly lighter because the world hadn’t suddenly collapsed on itself like in his nightmares.

“Are you okay?” Carol asked, and Bucky nodded.

“Yeah. I’m not used to being this honest… but I guess I got used to living the way I was for so long because I wasn’t open. I didn’t know how to process anything. I never gave myself a chance.”

He looked toward the ceiling for a second.

“If you look back, this ain’t surprising, my behaviour over the past year. I was living with an undiagnosed mental illness for… a long, long time. And that night outside that bar when I got hit by that car wasn’t the beginning.”

“I heard, and correct me if I’m wrong –” Carol began, before stopping, looking like she was struggling to find the right words. “The car hitting you was an accident.”

“Yeah, I got into a fight outside the bar and tried to bail. I walked into the street and got hit by a car.”

Maria gasped. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, I woke up at the hospital, a guy stitching up my eyebrow…”

Bucky gestured to the small scar that still sat on his forehead.

“And I was covered in bruises. I was a mess, not just because I’d been smacked into next week. And then I left the hospital way too early, checked myself into a Hilton.”

“Now I’m scared to ask…” Carol trailed off.

“It was purgatory. I was – I was…”

He was so aware of the change in mood in the room and felt his eyes prickle.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Maria and Carol said together.

“I think male actors need to be honest. Men in general have to be honest,” Bucky said, feeling his throat tighten. “Because when we’re not honest, we can’t get out of it. We just keep spiralling.”

“And with everyone watching you it’s so hard to be vulnerable,” Carol said, and Bucky nodded.

“I was suicidal.”

“I’m so sorry,” Carol said.

“It’s okay now. I mean, it’s not okay but I’m doin’ better.”

There was a pause and Bucky looked at Darcy. She looked like she was about to cry.

“And now Darcy’s… yeah. Sorry, baby.”

Carol murmured her thanks for Bucky being so honest and he just nodded, trying his hardest not to downplay everything. He knew it was important to just accept things from other people, especially their gratitude.

“Let’s lighten the mood, then,” Maria said. “Because Darcy’s crying and then Derek’s gonna cry and then I’m gonna cry –”

“We can segue into the DVD commentary you and Darcy did!” Carol said, and Bucky wiped his eyes, trying to smile. “Because that’s a treasure.”

“From mental illness to… more dumbassery,” Bucky muttered, and Maria began to laugh.

“Actually –” she motioned cutting and Derek obliged.

She turned to Carol.

“We should talk more.”

“If Bucky wants to,” Carol murmured.

They glanced at him.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “We can go back.”

Carol started them off, thanking Bucky again.

“I think there’s a hope there, though,” she said.

“Absolutely,” Maria said. “I mean, you’re here. In one piece.”

“I want to talk about my condition, at least so that people can stop writing lies. I understand that people need clicks and there’s bills to pay –” Bucky said, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

“But you want to beat them to the punch,” Carol said. “Or whichever analogy you want to use.”

“Maybe ‘pump the brakes’?” Bucky said, chuckling. “Uh. Well, I keep hearing my close friends I’ve never heard of telling gossip sites that I have bipolar disorder or schizophrenia.”

“They’re your invisible friends from middle school. ’Cause they sound like they’re in middle school,” Carol said.

“Freedom of the press but I don’t have either of those things. I have borderline personality disorder.”

Carol’s eyes widened for a second, the tilted her head.

Bucky murmured into the mic before Maria got a chance:

“Those of you listening at home should know that Carol’s confused right now.”

Maria chuckled and Carol joined her.

“So if you can imagine that reaction… but like, ten times worse. I was shitting myself, thinking ‘what the fuck does that mean’. Like, ‘borderline’? Bordering what? Sanity? Personality disorder?”

Carol nodded. “Right.”

“You only need to have five of the nine symptoms to be diagnosable.”

“Right.”

“I have, I guess seven or eight,” Bucky admitted. “But I’d rather not get into that, or I’ll be obligated to pay you guys for your time. I think we should talk about mental illness more but I have help.”

Maria nodded. “Also recovery is non-linear.”

“And… you probably can’t tell us about your recent legal issues,” Carol said.

“No… please, please don’t,” Bucky murmured, before snorting. “I’m currently filming in Brooklyn with Stephen Strange. And Anya Media has kindly volunteered to put me on their payroll.”

Carol reached over to a folder and opened it up, holding a photo of Darcy and Bucky on set wearing matching coats. Darcy had clips in her freshly washed hair and Bucky was kissing her forehead.

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Carol said, pointing at the photo.

“So are you two,” Bucky said, and Maria mouthed ‘oh, stop’.

Carol pointed to Darcy, who’d stood up on the couch.

“And _she_ was stupid happy when she got the first movie with you.”

“Oh, I did not know that,” Bucky murmured. “Interesting.”

Darcy stuck out her tongue and he chuckled.

“She scared the shit outta me.”

Maria’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Yeah, the audition process was taking too long and Stephen was tearin’ his hair out until we switched to brunettes…”

“Oh, okay,” Carol said, rolling her eyes. “I thought we had more fun but whatever…”

“Then why weren’t you at the auditions?” Bucky asked, laughing.

“I was busy. Very… busy.”

Maria leaned forward and squeezed her hand.

“I didn’t get a call-back,” Carol whispered into the mic and Bucky laughed long and loud, thankfully turning his head away from his own mic. “I mean, I sent in a tape. But like, whatever. Darcy’s okay. I guess.”

She began to giggle again.

“Darcy rang me after she got the role, squealing ‘I’m gonna make out with James Barnes’.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. Darcy came across as so calm and collected all those months ago when they first started working together.

“What?”

“Yeah, you have no idea what’s going on,” Maria murmured and they laughed together again.

Carol gestured to Darcy.

“Why don’t we bring her in, huh? Ladies and gentlemen, Darcy Lewis.”

They all clapped, and Darcy took a few seconds to relent and then walk over to the door to the studio and step in, her hands in her pockets.

“You guys wear each other’s clothes, it’s so cute,” Maria said.

Darcy sat on Bucky’s lap, putting her face closer to his mic and murmuring:

“Oh…. _Hello_. Putting on that smokey timbre.”

Bucky kissed her cheek, wrapping an arm around her waist. She felt safe and familiar, warm and soft on his knee. He was tempted to bury his face in her neck but they were still being filmed and it might have been overkill.

“Darcy, aren’t you a little warm?” Maria asked, and Bucky felt her stomach drop.

Darcy’s forehead was a little sweaty. She wore one of Bucky’s hoodies, and it was clear to see she wanted to take it off. But that meant someone noticing her shape.

“I’m… Can we -?” Darcy stammered, motioning cutting.

Derek paused recording once more.

Darcy looked down at Bucky, pushing back his hair. She was more than four months pregnant. He just nodded at her. Whatever she chose to do, he’d follow her through it all.

“Let’s go again,” Darcy said, clearing her throat.

Derek gave a thumbs up.

“I’m warm, yeah,” Darcy said. She flashed a smile and Bucky’s stomach flipped.

Her hands fell to the bottom of her hoodie and she pulled it up a little, her bump clearly visible through her t-shirt.

“No. No. What? What?! No. _Shut up._ Are you fucking kidding me?” Carol screamed, her eyes bulging.

Maria had frozen with her mouth open, and Bucky began to laugh, squeezing Darcy a little tighter.

Darcy pulled off the hoodie and dropped it on the floor while Carol kept going. She’d even got up to walk around to them, pulling Darcy into a hug.

“Darcy’s pregnant, guys,” Maria said into her mic. “Oh my fucking God. And Carol’s ready to flip this table. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Carol looked like she was going to cry. She finally pulled back, running to her mic and putting her headphones back on.

“Who knows about this?” Carol said, wiping her face with her hand.

“Our families and Stephen Strange,” Darcy said. “Also Linda from the set. She manages hair, makeup and costume.”

Carol exchanged a look with Maria.

“Listen… how are we meant to top that?”

“I have no clue,” Maria replied.

“How far along are you?”

“18 weeks,” Darcy replied.

“Shut the fuck up,” Carol threw back.

Bucky and Darcy began to laugh, and Darcy pulled Bucky closer to her body, pressing him against her. Her fingers thread through his hair.

Once they subsided, Carol gave an elaborate shrug.

“I was going to ask about the Oscars. But that seems stupid now.”

“No, I wanna talk about me some more,” Darcy said, whining. “I want more attention…”

Bucky chuckled again because she was being her infectious self. He was so relieved. He felt like nothing could dampen his mood.

“By the time this episode is up, the Oscar nominations will be out,” Carol said. “So, any hope in -?”

“I feel like my priorities have kinda shifted? Y’know?” Bucky said, pretending to weight it up.

Carol narrowed her eyes slightly.

“We need to finish this somehow so James Barnes, will you be nominated? Yes. I think so. Also –”

Carol pointed at Darcy.

“Darcy should be nominated. I’m not joking, I will riot if Darcy is not nominated for a fucking Academy Award. I will shit a brick.”

“Shit a brick?” Bucky repeated, laughing.

“Shit a fucking brick. And burn this house to the ground,” Carol said.

They all clapped, and Derek signalled they had wrapped.

-

Carol texted Bucky:

_The other night when you were wasted… was that because Darcy kept giving you her drinks?_

He replied:

_Yeah and you need to not make your margaritas with turpentine_

-

_“Borderline Personality Disorder. That’s what the Oscar-nominated star James Barnes says he has, according to an explosive episode of a L.A. based podcast that was released today. After months of speculation James Barnes has shared his heart-wrenching story. Following the podcast Barnes released a statement, hoping to inspire other men within the industry to speak up.”_

Bucky watched as two TV co-anchors spoke in detail about the podcast, before mentioning their own opinions.

_“I can’t help but feel that this is a reckless, deeply disturbed man who should never have been working in the first place.”_

Bucky let out a short laugh, sipping his beer on the couch with his feet up.

_“I don’t think he’s done anything wrong –”_

_“He was running in the street! What did he think would happen if he didn’t stop and look both ways?”_

_“Stan, what do you think?”_

They cut to the weather man who was standing by. He was an elderly white guy with big glasses.

_“I think he’s doin’ a great job being so open about his personal life. He’s one of the good guys.”_

Darcy walked into the living room, holding another bouquet of flowers, straining a little. Bucky put his beer down, jumping up to grab it from her.

“You shouldn’t be liftin’, baby –”

“I’m fine,” Darcy said, sighing a little.

Bucky couldn’t help but fuss, taking the bouquet away and studying the card.

“Amal Clooney, huh? How’d she find the address?”

“Called my agent, I guess,” Darcy said, distracted by the TV.

 _“Both James Barnes and Darcy Lewis are nominated for Oscars in their respective categories,”_ said the first anchor, the one who called Bucky reckless and deeply disturbed. _“And if they have any respect for the arts, they won’t be giving James Barnes an Oscar because he’s mentally ill.”_

“Meow,” Darcy said, eyes widening. “Who pissed in his cornflakes?”

Bucky shook his head, not taking it to heart. He brought out a vase and placed the flowers inside with some water, placing them next to the other deliveries. They’d already been sent several presents for the baby as well as congratulatory gifts for their nominations.

“I’m meeting Michelle at… one tomorrow, I think?” Darcy said, and Bucky came over to join her on the couch, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple.

“Two,” Bucky said, and she nodded.

“And then the ultrasound at four.”

Bucky nodded, squeezing her shoulder.

“You excited?” he murmured. He changed the channel to one showing African elephants walking together.

“Yeah. What do you want, a boy or a girl?”

“You’ve already asked me that, mama,” he murmured. “Just as long as there’s you and a healthy Peanut, that’s all I care about.”

She chuckled, turning to look him in the eye, brushing her lips with his. She deepened the kiss, tugging his bottom lip between her own. Bucky felt his blood rushing to his cock instantly, kissing her back with his hand going to cup her face.

“Mama?” she murmured against his lips and he smiled.

“Yeah, you’re a hot lil’ mama.”

She kissed him again, their mouths slanting together, tongues tangling. Her second trimester made her libido kick into eleventh gear again like it was when they were first sleeping together.

She climbed into his lap, her tummy between them.

-

Darcy shivered when the technician squirted the goo on her bare stomach.

“That’s cold.”

She gave a little laugh and Bucky smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Her other hand was holding her hoodie up, another one she’d borrowed from him.

The technician moved the little device around, pointing to the monitor.

“And… there’s your baby.”

Bucky stared, seeing the little black and white shape. He felt a wave of something, something like the first time he ever kissed Darcy out of character in Steve’s apartment. He blinked several times, feeling tears coming fast. He was edging towards something much greater than what he knew.

“Whoa,” Darcy breathed.

“Heartbeat,” the technician said and Bucky felt a tear fall and he swiped at it.

“Did you want to know the sex?”

Darcy and Bucky exchanged a look.

“I… I mean, I want to know,” Darcy said and Bucky nodded.

The technician gave a little smile.

“It’s a girl.”

“Oh, my God,” Bucky said, and he brought Darcy into a kiss, feeling overwhelmed.

He wished there was some way to bottle this feeling, to keep it inside him forever. Memory would have to do. He pulled back from Darcy, wiping his eyes again.

“Congratulations.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Bucky replied, his voice rough.

-

Bucky stepped out of their limo first, offering Darcy a hand.

He wore a sharp tuxedo, his beard trimmed with gel in his hair to make it tall and coiffured just so. He felt very strange but he knew he’d stick out more in jeans and a t-shirt. He missed his boots, but he wore his father’s watch under his shirt cuff.

Darcy teetered on high heels, her dress was a long lacy forest green gown with pointed little shoulders and more lace wrapped around her neck. Her hair was piled on her head and her lips were painted a fiery red.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, and she puffed out her cheeks and he chuckled.

The cameras were already flashing and they made their way down the carpet.

One TV anchor called them over and they slowly came to their side, Darcy’s hand always holding Bucky’s even when two different interviews were going on at the same time. Bucky kept turning to look at her to check her when someone from Buzzfeed was asking about a _Winter Soldier_ prequel.

“I mean, I’d be up for it.”

“Wow! And with as many lines as the last one?” the reporter joked and Bucky smiled.

 _The Winter Soldier_ only had three lines of dialogue. Bucky’s character was otherwise mute when during the entire two hours.

“We’d call that face acting, or you’re acting with your eyes.”

“I mean, it’s great for my memory.”

“I’ll let you go, and congratulations with… well, with everything.”

“Thanks, man,” Bucky said, and he meant it.

He walked in the background of Darcy’s interview, making a face over her shoulder. Darcy began to giggle, staring over at him.

“I hate to see you go but I love to watch you leave!” she called and he laughed.

He moved toward the group of people standing behind a barrier waving pictures and screaming.

He glanced at a little boy wearing a metal arm and crouched as much as his tight suit pants would allow.

“Hey, bud, you look really cool.”

The little Winter Soldier smiled at him, his mom holding his hand.

“We’re both so proud of you,” she said, and Bucky glanced at her.

He wanted to push it away, the feeling of being exposed. He knew it was no longer a negative thing, being honest about his recovery. It was freeing, being true to himself and everyone around him. He knew it wasn’t something he could change – the way people perceived James Barnes.

“You want a photo?” he said to the kid, who nodded.

He took several pictures, touching the kid’s mom on her arm and smiling gratefully. He moved on to some teenage girls who were shaking and screaming. He felt himself blush a little but kept signing, giving high-fives.

He turned to see Darcy talking to Ryan Seacrest and waved. She waved back before blowing a kiss.

They eventually made it to the theatre and took their seats. Many different people were coming over to say hello and congratulate them. Darcy looked a little worn out already but she smiled, shaking a lot of hands and doing air kisses.

Strange turned up, slipping in beside Bucky. Clint Barton was right behind Bucky, clapping him on the back.

“Hey!” Bucky said, getting up to hug him.

Clint was nominated for his leading role in a movie about a retired motocross champion, two of his fingers bandaged from yet another stunt injury on his current project.

“Good luck, buddy. We know you’ll get it,” Clint said. He said more or less the same thing the other day when they were at the Academy luncheon.

Bucky wasn’t expecting anything. Clint was the clear favourite. He smiled at him, then Clint moved on to Darcy.

When the show finally begun, Bucky knew someone would mention him at least once. Towards the end of the monologue, the host said:

“Let’s all raise a toast. Except Darcy Lewis, who will be the only sober person here by the end of the night.”

Darcy blushed instantly, looking down at her lap and shaking her head.

“And to anyone who is jealous of Darcy Lewis, just remember that she has to deal with two babies at home when she finally pops. _Two_ … except one of them is a thirty-two year-old man from Brooklyn.”

The audience erupted in laughter and Bucky pressed his lips together, nodding. He clapped along with everyone else.

“He’s fine,” the host said. “He’s a good sport, and nominated for The Death of a Marriage. Probably the most depressing story with the most beautiful couple in the world. Stephen Strange has a lot of inspiration from his own life –”

Bucky glanced at Strange for a second and saw the Brit roll his eyes but clap along, laughing sarcastically.

“He’s been married… four times? Five times?”

The host put a finger to his earpiece.

“My apologies, twenty-nine. Director Stephen Strange has been married twenty-nine times.”

“Wanker,” Strange muttered, and Bucky finally began to laugh, clutching his belly as Strange shook his head over and over.

The ceremony was entirely different to the last time Bucky was at the Oscars a few years ago. He took two girls with him, one under each arm on the red carpet. He sat somewhere in the middle of the crowd, never staying still for longer than ten minutes at a time, chain-smoking outside and throwing back champagne. By the time he made it to the after party he was practically falling over, and then he blacked out and woke up with an Ethiopian-born model named Mazaa around noon the next day.

This time, Bucky chewed on nicotine gum until his mouth felt too dry, sipping water every so often while watching the ceremony unfold. He got up twice to help Darcy out into the aisle and escort her to the bathrooms. Darcy rolled her eyes both times, complaining about her weak bladder. Bucky didn’t mind. It meant he could steal her away for a few minutes and not have to be constantly surrounded by people.

Strange won the Film Editing award, which Bucky thought would only encourage him to abandon all forms of self-care for the sake of his artistry. The award itself was deserved, but Bucky was sure that at some point he’d have to roll his director into an emergency room like he did last year.

“Thank you to the Academy,” Strange began, clutching his statue. “Thank you to the city of Los Angeles for the backdrop of my story. Thank you.”

Strange made it short and sweet, probably thinking like everyone else was that it wasn’t going to be his first acceptance speech of the night. He nodded at the crowd and walked off.

Bucky felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Carol had come over, smiling down at him. She was dripping in silver, her gown hugging her lithe limbs, her blonde hair glowing.

“Hey!”

“Hey,” Bucky replied, pulling her into a hug.

Darcy let out a delighted squeal, leaning over to kiss Carol.

Their blonde friend pointed toward the other side of the crowd.

“I’m down there. You guys okay?”

She squeezed Bucky’s hand and he nodded at her. Carol looked behind him, spotting Clint.

“Hi, I’m Carol.”

She said it like no-one knew who she was, and Clint took her hand to shake it, chuckling.

“Hi, my wife loves you.”

“Oh, thank you. You’re so sweet. Good luck,” she said. She glanced down at Bucky, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I want _you_ to win, though.”

Carol moved away, and Bucky kissed Darcy’s forehead.

“You okay?”

“Need to pee again.”

She sounded embarrassed, but Bucky took her hand once more, walking her up the aisle and down a tight hallway to the bathroom.

They reached the swinging door to the ladies’ room and a figure ducked out, making Bucky freeze and Darcy’s eyes widen.

It was Rachel.

“Oh! Hi,” she said, hand going to her throat.

Bucky had the vague idea she was coming, and he was bound to run into her at some point. He was just hoping Darcy wouldn’t be with him at the time. He felt his stomach twist.

“Hey,” he said, sounding as awkward as he felt.

“I’m Rachel,” Rachel said, sticking her hand out for Darcy to shake.

Darcy obliged, her cheeks looking slightly pink. Bucky wondered what she was thinking. For a fleeting moment he imagined Darcy hearing something Rachel say about him that was enough to leave him for.

 _He’s commitment-phobic. He’s an asshole. He doesn’t love people the right way_. _He’ll only hurt you._

He swallowed hard, watching Darcy and Rachel staring at each other. Rachel towered over Darcy, looking like almost a perfect visual opposite. She was tall, tanned and blonde while Darcy was small, porcelain and brunette.

“Congratulations,” Rachel said, and she smiled. It was genuine, her dimples showing. “And I saw your movie you did together. It’s so beautiful.”

“Congratulations to you, too,” Darcy said, beginning to relax and smile back. “How old is your little boy?”

“He’s almost five months,” Rachel replied, and then she blinked a few times, shaking her head. “And I miss him like crazy. My husband’s at home with him right now, with my mother-in-law.”

She was holding her clutch and opened it, taking out her phone to show Darcy the lock screen, which was of a small, dark-haired baby wearing a white beanie with polar bears on it.

“Oh, my God. He’s so cute!” Darcy said, and she laughed.

Bucky met Rachel’s gaze for a second and she smiled at him, softer than before. He knew then that she wasn’t bitter.

Darcy gestured to the door Rachel was blocking.

“I’m sorry, I have to – y’know, when you’ve gotta go –”

Rachel moved aside, murmuring her apologies.

“Sorry! I know the feeling. I might see you later.”

“Yeah!” Darcy called over her shoulder as she disappeared.

Bucky and Rachel were left alone in the hallway. He looked at the floor for a second, wondering what to say.

“I’m really happy,” she said, and he looked up once more.

“I’m really glad.”

“Oh, Bucky,” she said, and she moved forward to embrace him and he let her, remembering the last time they saw each other.

He hurt her so much.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he murmured into her hair.

She pulled back.

“It broke my heart, hearing all those things happening to you, with RKB and the car hitting you…”

She shook her head a little, her eyes glassy. She really did love him once.

“It’s not an excuse for how I treated you,” he said. “I think about it all the time, how I was an asshole and treated you like shit –”

“You were really depressed,” she said. “And it’s not an excuse, but you have to forgive yourself at some point. Okay? ’Cause your kid will feed off of that guilt forever.”

Bucky nodded, his chest feeling tight.

“I forgave you a long time ago,” she said, giving a little shrug of her shoulder. She sniffed. “Do you know what you’re having?”

“We’re… having a little girl,” Bucky said, and she gave a broad smile.

“Oh, wow.”

“Just… don’t tell anyone.”

“I’ll tell everyone you’re having triplets,” she replied, and he let out a short laugh.

She took his hand in hers and squeezed before moving down the corridor and out of sight.

-

They slid back into their seats, Strange back in his own beside Bucky.

“I saw Carol.”

“She has a girlfriend,” Bucky said in a low voice.

Strange didn’t seem to react badly, just nodded. He took a few moments to think it over, steepling his fingers. He murmured in his American accent:

“Well done, Carol.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. At least Strange wasn’t one of those guys to not take a hint. Darcy was listening to this all take place and began to giggle.

The fell silent when the next award came up. Bucky had lost track a little and he suddenly realized it there was only a couple more awards until his category was announced. Clint Barton had already been up to present _The Death of a Marriage_ as one of the Best Picture contenders when Bucky had taken Darcy to the bathrooms the second time.

Since Strange’s film didn’t have a budget for much of a score or soundtrack Bucky zoned out a little during the Best Score and Best Original Song categories but his stomach began to flutter with anticipation when the presenter for Actor in a Leading Role award walked up to their mic.

The presenter was Nick Fury, a veteran actor some people in the crowd gave a standing ovation. Bucky remained seated with Darcy and clapped.

Darcy gripped his hand as the clips from the actors nominated began to role.

“Clint Barton, _On My Own_.”

The clip for Clint was him washing blood off of his hands in a sink and trying not to cry. His hands shook, and he fell apart. Bucky turned in his seat to smile at Clint and he smiled back, looking a little self-conscious.

And then finally Bucky’s clip:

“James Barnes, _The Death of a Marriage_.”

The audience cheered and Bucky felt himself blush and Darcy whooped. The clip they showed was of Bucky following Darcy down the street, the first scene they ever shot together. It made Bucky’s stomach flip.  

The audience fell silent and Nick Fury began to open the envelope.

“And the Oscar goes to…”

Bucky stared straight ahead, feeling Darcy squeeze his hand again and again.

“Clint Barton, _On My Own_.”

Bucky jumped up, turning around to grab Clint and hug him.

“I knew it, buddy,” he murmured into his ear.

Clint hugged him tighter.

“I love you, brother.”

Bucky drew back, smiling. He was happy for Clint. He deserved it. Strange shook Clint’s hand, then several other people along his way until he finally got to the stage.

He looked like he was out of breath, taking the statue from Fury and blinking rapidly.

“I want to thank the Academy,” Clint began. He cleared his throat. “I want to thank my wife Laura for putting up with me, and for my kids who I disappoint from time to time.”

The audience laughed.

“I have to say this,” Clint added. “I am so humbled to be in the same category as James Barnes who’s sitting right there –”

Bucky raked a hand through his hair, trying not to feel so many eyes on him and failing.

“He is a gift. And I share this with you, brother. We are so thankful that you are still here with us.”

Bucky’s eyes prickled. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. He kept smiling up at Clint.

Clint left the stage, waving at the crowd. Bucky glanced at Darcy.

“Your turn.”

“I’m not gonna win,” she retorted, squeezing his hand. “Christ, my dress feels so tight.”

“She kickin’?” Bucky murmured, and Darcy nodded.

The baby had been going at it for a few days now. Bucky hated that he wasn’t at home the first time it happened, when he was out getting Oreos and Pop Tarts for Darcy around midnight.

He put his spare hand on Darcy’s belly now, feeling the little movements against his palm.

“She’s gonna kick the shit outta ya in a second.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, unconvinced. The next presenter came out, the winner from last year. She was a Polish actress Bucky met once at a party years ago, and she was distinctly unimpressed by him at the time.

The nominee clips ran through, Darcy’s the second last one.

“Darcy Lewis, _The Death of a Marriage_.”

It was the scene in which Natalie confronted Jack after Mike attempted to assault her.

_“How dare you? After what you did to me? After what I went through with Mike –”_

Bucky stared at Darcy’s face as she watched the clip, seeing Jack grip Natalie’s wrists.

_“I don’t want to love you anymore.”_

The scene cut and there was a camera trained on Darcy’s face and she licked her lips, looking a little pinker in the cheeks.

“And the Oscar goes to…”

Bucky only looked at Darcy. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else ever needed to matter but her and the life growing inside her. It was the longest two seconds of Bucky’s life.

“Darcy Lewis, _The Death of a Marriage_.”

Darcy covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes bulging as people began to cheer. She surged toward Bucky hugging him.

“I love you. I love you,” she whispered. “Oh, my God.”

He kissed her face and she moved her mouth to meet his, hands on either side of his face. Bucky felt his stomach flipping again and again as Darcy kissed him.

She finally drew back, only to plant one more kiss on his lips at the last second before standing, Bucky copying her. She moved toward Strange and hugged him, her eyes still wide. She moved down the aisle, picking up her skirts to reach the staircase. She reached the stage, taking the statue from the presenter and kissing her cheek.

She turned to the mic, gasping.

“I’m… I didn’t write a speech, I’m sorry!”

The theatre erupted in laughter. Bucky was still standing, feeling his eyes begin to fill with happy tears.

“I want to thank… the Academy, my management, my agent… Stephen Strange for giving me this opportunity and changing my life completely, I love you Stephen…”

She kept looking around, trying to remember.

“Please no-one cut me off because I’m like, two-hundred pounds right now…”

The audience laughed again.

“Thank you to my parents for not dragging me back to Bryn Mawr even when I was broke and couch surfing for _years_ …”

She looked out into the crowd and met Bucky’s gaze and she turned her head for a second, overcome. She turned back, tears rolling down.

“Bucky Barnes, I am so in love with you. I am honoured to have shared scenes with you, I am honoured to have you in my life and be my partner and…”

She let out a breathless laugh. “And be the father of our child, who’s kicking me just like you said they would…”

She sniffed and Bucky felt the tears start to fall, and he was sure he looked like a mess. He wiped his eyes.

“You’re the love of my life. And I want to thank the universe for our souls meeting along the way, because… once you weren’t there and now I can’t imagine my life without you. I _love_ you.”

He blew her a kiss and she whimpered a little. She swallowed, looking toward the crowd again.

“Thank you. Thank you…”

She moved toward the right of the stage and Bucky took off, making his way toward an exit. An usher opened a side door for him and he met Darcy in the hallway, holding her tight to his chest as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I gotta go talk to the press,” she murmured. “My makeup’s ruined.”

“You look beautiful,” he murmured. “I’m so proud of you. I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.”

Darcy was being directed to go and they separated, Bucky wiping his face a few times.

-

“I need to go, Buck. Baby, I need to go right now –”

“I know, I know –”

He was trying to hurry her to the nearest bathroom, people ducking out of their way.

“These Spanx are squeezing the piss outta me! Hey, don’t laugh!”

He couldn’t help it because she was too cute even when she was seconds away from wetting herself. He pushed through the line into the ladies’ bathroom and Darcy was red in the face.

He shut the door behind them and tried his best to help her, hands going under the long dress to grab at the control wear.

“Now, now, now –”

Bucky resorted to tearing at the dress with his teeth before Darcy could stop him. He knew it was a crime to ruin such a beautiful gown but Darcy was desperate. He made the initial tear and then ripped the lace with all his might, making a deep cut along her thigh to get better access.

They tugged the Spanx together and she was released, sitting down on the toilet.

Darcy went quiet, and Bucky met her gaze, touching her knee.

“I’m mortified. This is mortifying.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky whispered. Darcy began to laugh, putting her face in her hands.

“I left my… Oscar with Sandra Bullock,” she said, and Bucky nodded. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

She looked around the stall, listening to the people coming and going.

“What am I meant to do? My dress is fucked.”

Bucky fished out his phone and called Carol. Within a few minutes, her familiar voice was calling out, knocking on the stall doors.

“In here,” Darcy called, who’d flushed and gone a deeper shade of red.

Bucky unlocked the stall and revealed Carol. The blonde’s eyes ducked down to the massive tear in Darcy’s dress.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said ‘gaping’.”

She glanced at Bucky.

“Stephen won Best Director.”

“He’ll understand.”

“They’re announcing Best Picture any second now,” Carol added, and Bucky’s eyes widened.

“Right. I’ll go?”

He exchanged a glance with Darcy, and she nodded.

He ducked out of the stall and nearly ran into someone who looked like a Jenner girl but he didn’t give himself a chance to acknowledge them, racing down the hallway back to the theatre.

He managed to reach Strange just in time, the Brit glaring at him.

“Okay, dial it back, man. Tone down the asshole,” he muttered, and Strange’s face slackened for a second. “Wardrobe malfunction. Darce is… indisposed. You people like using that word, right?”

“Maybe in Jane Austen novel,” Strange retorted.

This whispered conversation was happening the entire time the Best Picture nominees were being read out.

“And the Oscar goes to…”

Bucky watched Strange’s face, wondering what a world would be like without him, without his movie. Bucky owed him a lot.

“ _The Death of a Marriage_.”

Bucky turned his head to the stage, not quite believing it. Strange looked like he’d frozen in place, and Bucky began to laugh.

“Holy shit,” he said, and Strange seemed to nod.

Bucky got up and Strange mirrored him, looking dazed as he made his way down the aisle, Bucky following him to make sure he wasn’t about to have some kind of mental breakdown along the way. Several producers joined them, and Clint appeared, clapping as he walked up to the stage.

Strange was handed his Oscar and looked over the sea of people.

“I would not be up here if it wasn’t for the people working alongside me. I thought for some time that this film would be my Waterloo.”

He glanced behind him, nodding at the producers.

“Thank you to everyone for dealing with my usual form. I’m a nightmare to work with. I’m a terrible person to be around twenty-three hours of the day.”

He glanced at Clint and then Bucky, his eyes resting on his face.

“Thank you to Bucky Barnes who never treated me differently, called me out every time. I hope we can continue working until I shut down…”

He blinked a few times, shaking his head.

“When I’m old and worn I will remember this moment, and I’ll always remember the moment when you first came to my bungalow and said to me ‘So, what’s the story? Some bullshit about a moral fucking conundrum’.”

Bucky let out a surprised laugh, wondering if they’d manage to bleep all of that. He rubbed his beard self-consciously.

“Thank you, goodnight,” Strange finished, smiling.

-

Bucky managed to intercept Darcy on the way out, seeing her in a hoodie and sweatpants with no sign of her dress.

Carol had run around to find something for Darcy to wear, with one attendant’s gym clothes the only thing she could find big enough. Darcy was pink in the face still because she was embarrassed, but she clutched her Oscar in one hand while Bucky held her other.

“Sandra Bullock come back?”

“Yeah, she was worried about me,” Darcy replied.

Someone waved at her and she waved back, confused.

“Wait, who was that?” she whispered to Bucky and he chuckled.

“I dunno.”

They went back to their hotel to change, and then drove back to walk the after party red carpet. Bucky wore a linen suit with no tie, making him feel like he was a Scar Face knock-off with his chain around his neck and slightly unbuttoned shirt.

Darcy wore a lilac tulle gown that she called her Jellyfish Dress. It hung loose with only a slight cinch to the waist, her hair down and wavy. She wore a silver ear cuff that matched Bucky’s chain, their hands entwined as they made their way inside.  

Throughout the night they ate burgers, talked for hours with new acquaintances and kept turning to each other, kissing and hugging.

They finally came back to the hotel around 3 AM and Bucky scooped Darcy up when they shut their room’s front door, making her laugh.

He walked down the hallway to the bedroom, depositing her on the bed. Darcy put her Oscar down on the bedside table, smiling at it.

“I can’t stop staring at him.”

“You two wanna be left alone?” Bucky said, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Darcy pretended to consider that, humming.

“No, you can stay.”

Bucky chuckled, seeing she was watching him undress. She leaned back on her elbows, eyes traveling up and down as he pulled off his shirt. She seemed to have caught her second wind in the time it took to get back to the hotel when an hour ago she was wrecked.

He moved closer to her, kneeling to kiss her. She deepened the kiss, and he closed his eyes, settling on top of her, pushing her legs apart with his knee.

“How did I get so lucky?” he murmured, and she gave an appreciative groan when he kissed her neck, trailing down to her clavicle. “Huh? How did I get so lucky?”

She cupped him through his trousers and she smiled up at him when he grunted from her sudden touch. Her hands went to his belt and unbuckled it, their eyes glued to each other.

“Wait, I wanna –”

He moved down, hands going under her massive skirts and pushing them up, revealing Darcy’s bare mound. He had an inkling she wasn’t wearing underwear and he pushed her legs further apart, planting kisses down her belly and inner thighs.

“ _Bucky…_ ”

She moaned when he kissed her between her legs, his tongue darting to taste her. He groaned, fingers teasing her open before he pushed inside, his tongue swirling around her clit as he crooked his fingers. He wanted her sloppy wet, and she was already dripping all over his mouth and palm as he pushed it up to meet her hip thrust.

He pushed his dick into the mattress in time with each thrust of his fingers, hearing Darcy become more desperate, her mewling getting louder and sweeter with each swirl of her tongue.

“Fuck. Bucky. Fuck, you feel so good… Fuck, I never want you to stop…”

She kept babbling praises, cursing, her voice dissolving into a wanton moan. Her eyes opened and she stared down at him, huffing her breath. She’d gone red again, a warm gush down his wrist as she clenched around his fingers, crying out.

She shuddered, throwing her head back and Bucky held his hips in place to stop himself from blowing his load into his pants. It was a close call, and he pressed his forehead into the mattress for a second to gather himself.

“Buck… Baby, come here.”

He moved back, peeling off the rest of his clothes. He joined Darcy, helping her pull off her dress and strapless bra, cuddling her with their hips together while she still panted.

“I love you,” she whispered, sounding like she was back to exhausted, rubbing her tummy a few times.

“I love you,” he echoed. “I wanna make you come again…”

She chuckled weakly, wiping sweat away. She nodded, turning onto her side with a sigh.

He spooned her, pushing one thigh up and kneading her ass cheek a few times while he lined them up. He sank into her with a gasp, her wet heat making him shudder, his hips beginning to rut.

He wedged an arm under her side and pulled her closer, his left hand on her other hip. He kissed her neck, his hips knocking against her ass over and over.

Darcy moaned the whole time, getting louder when he rubbed her clit again, fucking her in deep, hard strokes.

She was so beautiful, cracked open for him forever. He loved her, loved their baby, loved their life together. He said he was lucky, but Darcy really had no idea what he meant. Words weren’t enough to articulate properly just how much she meant to him.

His breath was ragged, feeling his world become a pinpoint inside him, the impending rush enough to make him whimper into her hair. She turned her head and they kissed, Bucky’s hips beginning to falter. Darcy broke their kiss to screw up her face and come once more, clamping down on his cock as she went still, her cry broken but still ringing in Bucky’s ears.

He lasted only a few more seconds, and he was sure he’d passed out – he gave a shaky growl and spilled deep inside her, coming so hard that he saw spots, tingling all the way down to the tips of his toes.

They panted, Bucky going limp as he pulled out and rolled onto his back, Darcy doing the same, their bodies sticky and boneless. When the world began to right itself, Darcy lay her head on his chest and he kissed her crown, his hand going to touch her bare stomach.

He felt a few little kicks and smiled into Darcy’s hair.

-

Natalie Judith Barnes was born on July 7th. She had her mother’s eyes and her father’s smile. Her godparents were Steve and Wanda.

Bucky and Darcy married in the fall in a small civil ceremony in the garden behind Stephen Strange’s bungalow.

 _Brooklyn Baby_ one a total of five Academy Awards, including Actor in a Leading Role going to James Barnes.

Bucky reprieved his character _The Winter Soldier_ in which he never spoke except for one monologue at the very end of the film, and the much-loved prequel became RKB’s highest grossing movie of all time. Bucky started to do conventions to meet fans and thank them for his success.

Stephen Strange worked with Bucky and Darcy eight more times throughout their long careers, with James Barnes as a producer as well as a cast member.

 _The Death of a Marriage_ was inducted into the AFI as an American classic of lasting influence.

Bucky and Darcy had three children – Natalie, Elizabeth and Steven – and eight grandchildren.

They remained together in Manhattan for the rest of their lives.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this final chapter to Michelle, my no. 1 cheerleader thousands of miles away from me.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com)


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